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(I know you don’t)
I don’t know if you like me.
But, I think you do
I think you do because I know that you like the way I tuck my hair underneath of my jacket collar
And my you compliment my eyes
And you compliment my brain
And you joke about the way I bite my lip when I focus
And you tell me I’m an original.
“We’re all snowflakes, Jack.”
(Don’t look at him. Take the antiderivative and then square.)
And the way that my eyebrows haphazardly twinge when when you do those things
Because I don't know if you like me
And you know that I don’t.
You know that I don’t
And you know that beyond my snide remarks
and eyerolls
and the calls I ignore
and the way that I force you my shoulder
It's because I don’t know
And I’m defensive
Because I don’t know if you like me
And you know that I don’t.
I toss on a worn sweatshirt that smells like the perfume I put on in my bedroom mirror.
Clean faced
Pumpkin guts stuck beneath my nails (I don’t know what i’m going to be for Halloween).
I give myself a once over.
My hair underneath the crewneck collar is my comfort.
My jeans, stained with chai from a rush up the third floor stairwell, are faithful.
The weathered denim my refuge,
and dirty white sneakers my old friends.
And you, my stupid, silly, ridiculous reason (What am I doing?)
My reason to come to this stadium and stand
And stare (at the helmets dashing the lines)
And pretend.
Pretend that I don’t care
Touchdown; I smile
Go Bulls.
I don’t care.
See?
I don’t know if you see me.
I don’t know if you like me.
Why am I here?
No,
I don’t want fries (I would feel them in my throat).
There you are.
I understand it now (My stomach hurts).
Instantly, I understand it now (My stomach hurts).
She doesn’t know if you like her.
But she thinks she knows because you warmed up her hands (Just tell them you don’t feel well).
And you compliment her eyes (Just go. Just leave, It’s okay).
Touchdown; she smiles
Go Bulls (She has a beautiful smile).
And you know that she doesn’t know if you like her
And that’s why you do.
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