He is lovely.
He is the sun, setting over the horizon
He is lovely
He is the bright, full moon rising

He is funny
He is the smile on my face
He is charming
He is showing up all over the place

I could stare at that face every day
and not get sick of it.
I could listen to that voice every night
and still melt at the sound of it.

When he’s everywhere
when he’s in every thought
when he’s the most interesting person
all the eccentricities and tiny, hidden little
bits and bobbles and patchwork pieces
all the fleeting moments and the
small details he shares with me
An entire library

I can see it
our futures blended together
like watercolors so very
unexpected in how they blend
and maybe this time I don’t have to bend
all the patchwork pieces that make up me
maybe I can let him read
my entire library

As much as I want to speculate
and fill in the blanks all by myself
he’s too lovely for that
too whole and entire and real to be confined by
the stretches of my biased imagination
and I don’t want to build moments with my brain
I want to share them with him
It’s better that way. It’s real that way.

He is lovely.
I want to believe I am lovely too
He is lovely
I want him to say, “Y’know who’s lovely? It’s you.”

I am afraid.
This path feels familiar and I’ve lived this story before
my feet have tread on this
sodden forest floor
I know the heartache waiting
just around the bend
and I am begging you, please
don’t tell me I am your friend.

You are lovely.
And I want you to love me.
You are kind.
And I want to know your mind.

I want to take up space in it
the way you’re living rent free
inside of me
Could it be
that you think I’m lovely too?