Butterflies and Balconies

It started off with butterflies and balconies, A stilted yet oddly comfortable conversation Walking home in the darkened rain. Then a few weeks later I was feeling cheeky, And spurred on by my favourite song I hinted that I’d like to see you again; The worst that could happen was that you’d say No…but to my surprise you didn’t. So I went round your house on a Sunday afternoon And sat awkwardly on your huge sofa Watching a TV show about awkward teenagers And not quite seeing the irony of it all. Then you walked me home in the dark And I felt happy and safe. God, I know it’s sad, but I clung on To that feeling for days. When I spoke to you again I think I was too Forward about it all, over-excited by A tiny bit of attention. I went over again in the holidays For another awkward sitting where Words stumbled out of my mouth. I remember you said you liked my jumper And I felt pleased, as if my aim in life Was to gain your approval for my choice of knitwear. Then came the unsettling, unexpected clashes On the stairs, in the corridors and in between blocks, Even worse when I’m caught off-guard, Usually looking gormless or doing something embarrassing. And the worst thing is I can’t explain why I get like that; jumpy and panicky when you come into view. I’m not completely sure if I like the idea of love Ore than I like you… Now my shallow personality is exposed and I can tell Any vague interest I once imagined you had Is waning. Like the moon on that first night When we walked home in the darkened rain And talked about balconies.