There is some vulgar language in this poem. Just warning you.
And, I'm not JKR.
He's the type of boy
Who has all rough edges
Jagged manners
With no elegance
Or g r a c e
Or perfect symmetry
And you really shouldn't like him
At all
Because you're the pretty one
The nice one
The shy one
The poet
And you save the tough guys for Dom
But the shards of broken glass
Don't hurt anymore
And each time his lips carve into a smile
And you grin back
And he whispers
"fuck you" teasingly (of course)
You can't help but return the favor
With a small push
And a mumble of "bitch"
To which you both laugh
You were never like this before, baby girl
Oh, innocent child
You were a lovely little flower, right, Petal?
But he makes you laughlaughlaugh
And the sound is high and tinkling
And so, so different from your usual quiet giggle
He makes you feel, child
That's the true difference
He makes you think
And react
And not take it all
Too damn seriously
And so the words
(filthy words)
Slip off your tongue
And your head rests on his shoulder
And your hand entwines with his
And you breathe in and out in the rhythm of his
H e a r t
(it might be love, baby girl)
And you'll nestle yourself in his lap
And bottle up all the doubts you have
Because you don't know if you like the change
But you can't bear to tell him
So you lock it all away
And hope nobody notices
Dirty, dirty words and perverted thoughts
Because you are ashamed
And you hate the things you say when he's around
But you kinda, maybe, possibly, find yourself
F
A
L
L
Ing for him
(the dirty bastard)
A/N: So true for me, and it's rather funny. I think I may like him. A lot. But he makes me curse, which I usually never do.