“Why do you like me?”
“I don’t know.”
Maybe, I do know.
Maybe, because you make me happy.
No, wait, I wasn’t happy before we met.
You were full of assumptions,
And I was unavailable.
Maybe it’s punishment,
I was happy the first time we met.
I was happy when we spoke,
It felt like my heart was truly belonged for the first time.
When you were mean,
I was unhappy,
but I couldn’t hate.
Then I was always happy subsequently,
The multiple times we met.
When you shared your day,
When you touched me,
My skin felt truly happy,
My body was happy,
I was happy.
I was happy when we held hands,
Even though ever so briefly.
I was happy when we kissed,
Simple and passionate ones alike.
Sometimes my happiness was so extreme,
I felt embarrassed being happy.
I was the most happy when I see you smile,
I like to know that you’re happy.
When you don’t smile.
It’s strange to worry.
At least you’re smiling when I see you.
Somehow I want to be near you,
Like you’re my sun,
I want to orbit.
But if you’re the sun,
Many other planets orbit.
I will not be your one and only.
Maybe I can live with that,
Maybe I can’t.
Then in that case I’ll be your sun.
The sun that for you she burns,
For you she’s lit.