The things she says—
they make me smile;
and the gleam in her eyes—
they shine so bright.
Her jokes aren’t all that funny,
but who cares?
I like them anyway.
And I may not show it;
I may hide beneath my sarcasm,
or perhaps a mean remark or two.
I may even say, “I can’t stand you”—
but that’s because I can.
Everything I say
is the opposite,
because I am protecting myself—
from falling for you,
and all you say and do.
And I have doubts—
that I’m not good enough,
that there are plenty of others
better than me.
And you probably see it,
and say nothing,
because you feel nothing,
and want nothing—
when all I want
is something from you.
Oh, the things I would tell her:
how much I want her,
and how often the words I say
aren’t all that true…
when, in reality,
they’re opposite.
The truth is, though—
I do actually like you.