the beekeeper.

face.

i'm not in love with you,
but i'm so in love with your face.

your eyebrows,
how thick and unorthodox they are,
your lips and how they remind me of jasper
and the cabin i left a piece of my heart in,
your eyes and how i mistook them for something i craved,
at least 80% cacao,
bitter and unpopular but oh so delicious to me
and how they turned out to be the thing i feared most:
the deepest depths of the ocean where the most terrifying creatures lie.
your nose and the purple heart it carries with it,
your dimples when you smile,
yeah, i remember those craters even though you rarely grace me with them anymore.

i sometimes think that if i had just signed those papers,
maybe i could spot you.
maybe i could touch your palm again while handing you 25¢.
perhaps i could see that smirk of yours when you called me that stupid nickname,
or i could hear your teases about how bad i am at volleyball.

no, i do not love you,
but god,
i'm so in love with your face.