I don’t know what I don’t know
about you, but I want to,
and I want to say
I’ll like you just the same.
God, you’re wonderful.
Not in a perfect, you’re like
fucking Mars I could worship you
kind of way—
just who you are,
insomuch as I know you,
and what you do,
sure that I like it or not…
colors me stupid and out of the lines
into a an adoring, hopeful fool.
Maybe I’m crazy
for thinking of you every day,
and fitting you in spaces next to me
and soaring at all you’ve brought me
and wondering if you could see in me
anything worth offering.
I might be intense and confused
and afraid of coming on too strong,
but I’m not afraid to tell the truth;
‘cause if there’s a place for me in your life,
then risking vulnerability again and again
is worth every breathless second.