Asking again

"What do you think?"

"What color does she prefer

blue, purple, or pink?"

"Am I too short, too weird, my thoughts abstract?"

I don't even know why you ask me that. 

Like all times before, my response is the same

I ruffle my hand

through your hair, never tamed. 

From your sparkling eyes to your laugh that rings

To your soul that smiles and brain that thinks. 

Why wouldn't she like you? I wish I could say

But then you'd know my heart feels about you this way.