Fighting the Battle



I like boys. 
I like how they are tall.
I like the way the always try to impress you.
I like that sometimes they are a little clueless.
I like boy’s with brown hair.
I like boy’s with nice sneakers.
I like boys. 
That’s never been a secret. 
I express it freely to my friends and my teachers and on my blog. 
I sometimes express it by making extremely inappropriate sexual comments about one to my mother.

But I love her hair.
I love the way her hands fit into mine like the last two puzzle pieces.
I love the freckle on  her lip or 
When she tells me my jokes are dumb.
I love the way she sounds on voicemail.
I love the way she always seems to smell good.
I love the way she argues and the way she talks about her family.
I love that we constantly get looks and not-so-nice comments

She still loves me.

I like boys.
But I love her.


Grant-Grey Porter Hawk Guda

Powerful expression! 

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