You’re going to fall in love
with a girl. Her eyes aren’t
brown and her hair is some
color between blonde and brown.
She will speak rhythmically and
her sighs sound like soft keys to
a song. She’ll stay up late listening
to that vinyl record you bought her.
When morning comes she’ll know
every word. There will be a cassette
labeled with every emotion thought
of, except love. She’ll sing too loud
and laugh inappropriately.
There’s bound leather she caries around
and she’ll scribble lines only she
can read. She’ll make a mixtape
for everybody, but she can’t make
one for you yet. When you’re not
looking, she will pull down the
sleeves of her shirt. Sometimes
when you hold hands her knuckles
will be rough and she’ll wince at
She’ll want to be left alone at times
but doesn’t have the heart to tell you.
She’ll draw eyes repeatedly, only
the right though. She can never make
the left look symmetrical. She’ll keep
you up at night even when she’s not
laying beside you.
She’ll write about you
and find new ways to
describe your hair, your
skin, your breath. You’re
perfect poetry, and she’s
the writer who can’t
find the right synonyms.
There will be times when
her exterior breaks and
you can see inside.
She’ll push you away
while trying to mend herself.
And this is where you must
fight. Promise to love her cracks
and not fix them. She’ll thank
you one day. And when
she finally hands you your
mixtape it will say your name
and in parenthesis “love”.