in which the author stops lying
i think you’re beautiful
you’re smart and i am swept away
by you.
i like the way i feel when we touch
and your hair, your eyes.
while i should pay no attention to your lips,
you point them out and i look
and i wonder how ours may fit together
you put your hand on my knee, today
i wanted you to leave it there
but i don’t say one goddammed word,
until maybe now–
cos i’m saying it to myself