So I have a secret
Every time you open your mouth
And you twist a boring book into a dreamy drama
Or a magical memoir
Or a fascinating piece of fiction
I feel a radiant romance form.
I know I am young and you are old
But if age is just a number
And you can turn pages into wonder
What’s to stop me from having a temporary liking for you?
What’s to stop me from letting my teenage hormones go freely?
What’s to stop me from not caring whether it’s a fleeting feeling?
What is to stop me from truly being honest
About the fact that I am me and I find you
I am shameless and inexperienced and since when did learning about Great Gatsby’s and lives of pi’s and dead mockingbirds turn into something
So. Damn. Sexy.
When was the last time my passion for education matched my passion for sex education?
When was the last time my frontal lobe could look past the curves and just see a witch doctor of words
And a future in my own tale?
I’m not just a pile of puppy dog love
I’m a list of luscious letters and dazzling descriptions and in some writer’s twist of a story
I am perfection. Not a sex-driven madman.
Perhaps if I learn to love the person who holds that passion
That lover to letters and lust-er to life
I can learn to have a relationship with me.
I can learn to have a story all my own that’s not covered in disinterest.
I can take lessons in living and not in listlessness.
In the classroom I can learn to be curious.
Perhaps If I love you I can love English too.
And I’ll have an excuse for every
Question I answer correctly
And every word I want to marry
Because the taste of cynosure and dalliance
Fills my heart with ebullience.
I can blame my sudden affection on your body.
To my friends you are just fuck-worthy
To me you are fine eloquence.
And yes I want to cuddle with your curves, but I also wish to walk among your words
And not fear my furor for non-fiction and Shakespeare and alphabets and language and learning.
So forgive my crazy teenage hormones
And under-developed frontal brain
And forgive my uncontrollable emotions
And lust for you that I know is in vain.
Because in my world I must love sex
And I must love boobs and butts and not be complex
I can’t love my passion and I can’t love words
Because nobody likes you when you love something absurd.