how egotistical must i be

to think you might be interested in me?

 

but

 

you walk me to the bus stop every morning,

sometimes, we grab breakfast together;

we unwrap our silences in the crinkle of paper bags

and attempt to parse out the hidden lines between lines

with disposable cutlery.

 

you asked me out once;

i caught the first bus back and

over dinner, i watched you deconstruct a sandwich

and if that is how we are unmade

then no, i don’t want to fall in love

please

 

yet

 

you laugh at my jokes

the kind of laugh that traverses your whole body;

i wish i’d remember what i said

just so i could hear

the laugh-lines on your face

 

ergo, you might be interested in me

and i hope that’s not my ego talking

 

but on the off-chance that it is,

i can’t and shan’t think that—

i do have romantic interest in you

no, listen—

 

wait.

 

really?

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