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.