Do you ever look at someone and it scares you? (You mean like ugly people?) Not in a bad way, but in a "If you look into my eyes any longer you will surely see that you hold my heart in the palm or your hand," kind of way. (Oh man, you're getting sappy.)
There is this boy I know. (Well man actually. In fact, one of the only men you've ever really known.) He has that effect on me. (Chocolate has that effect on you.) That scary, pit-in-the-stomach, effect. (Sap!) I don't love him, not yet, but the potential is there. Sometimes, when I look at him for too long, I get this knot in my stomach, my heart clenches up just a bit, and my breathing becomes shallow. (And you like that!?!) It scares the Hell out of me. (This sappy crap in your head scares the Hell out of me.)
Sometimes, out of nowhere, he'll pop into my head. (His head pops into your what?) I'll smile and then I get this butterfly feeling in my tummy. (Sounds like indigestion.) He calls sometimes, and whenever he does he always says the same greeting. (Yo bitch?) It's funny how you can look foreward to and dread some words so much. He has this bizarre effect on me and there doesn't seem to be anything I can do about it. (You could dump him)
You know as I am writing this my mind keeps wandering to him and I can't concentrate on what I want to write. (You don't want to feel this way you know.) Do you ever sit and think about all the things you like about someone? (You were doing fine on your own.) Whenever I think about him, you know when the person face pops into your head, I see his smile. (Everything was simple.) He's got two. (No man to complicate things.) One he shares with everyone. (You lived your life.) This kind of easy-going, boy-next-door smile. (You went to work.) And then there is this other smile. (You went to school.) This one I think he saves for me. (You hung out a bit with your friends.) This evil, lip curled up, lopsided grin that just makes my knees weak. (You played with your girls.)
I like the way he calls me sweetie. (You looked foreward to moving back to California.) I like the way he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me in close. (See simple.) Or when kisses me for no reason. (Simple?) I like that he closes his eyes when we kiss, even though I don't. (Empty?) Or when keeps looking at me even after I have turned away. (Lonely?) I love that I hate his music. (No. No...it was fine.) I like his purple shorts. (You were fine.) And all his t-shirts. (Simple...uncomplicated...fine.) His total lack of variety in his wardrobe. (Ok, so not good, but fine.) I hate his cats, but like his dog. (Fine is ok. Fine is good.) He drinks Coke and I drink Pepsi, but that's ok. (Ok so fine sucks royally!) I like that he makes sound affects all the time like a little boy, except when you think he should be making noise. (Yeah yeah yeah.) I like his race car. (So he's an ok guy.) And hate his super uncomfortable couch. (Maybe better than ok.) I like that the pictures on his walls make me laugh. (Those stupid pictures.) I love that he drives an hour to see me and hate that he drives an hour home. (Does this mean you like him?) I like the way he laughs with his whole body. (When he smiles with his eyes too?) I love that he gets teary at the sad parts of movies and makes no lame excuses for it. (That's when you really started liking him isn't it?) I hate the apples that fall out of his tree onto my car, but love the recliner in front of the computer screen. (You know that's a good place to poke.) I like his friends, except for the one that's mean to me. (Aren't you supposed to hate his friends?) I hate that he makes me want to paint my fingernails. (He makes you feel girlie doesn't he?) I like that he always talks nice to me. (With respect.) I hate that I am so freaked out by the way I feel that sometimes I talk mean to him. (Scary isn't it?) I love that he knows that's why I talk that way. (He's a smart boy.)
But mostly, I like when he stands on my back porch in nothing but his jeans, in the rain, in the dark, in the middle of the night with a cigarette in his mouth, after he's just lit mine for me, weaing that evil, lop-sided, lip-curled grin that's just for me. (Yeah, that is pretty nice isn't it?)
