The Reasons I Like You
Annie Louise Twitchell
I think the reason I like you so much is
because you make me forget that
I cried myself to sleep last night.
I think the reason I like you so much is
because you make me laugh so hard
that my muscles go limp, like the spaghetti
I cooked a minute too long because
I was distracted texting you.
You make me laugh all the way through my body,
not just the giggling that I’m so well known for,
but you make me happy all the way down to my toes
and all the way in to my bones. You make my bones laugh,
and I love that you don’t look at me like I’m nuts
when I say something like that.
Laughing bones?
I think the reason I like you so much is
because you don’t tell me to be happy;
because sometimes no matter how hard I try, I just can’t be.
You understand, and I love that about you.
I think the reason I like you so much is
because you just roll your eyes and let me
drag you outside to play in the rain and
stomp through puddles as if we were six years old,
because I can’t find anything else to do with this
explosion of life that floods through my veins
in a torrent of blood and laughter.
I think the reason I like you so much is
because you hold me close so I can hear
your heartbeat pounding against your ribs
and I can get lost in the rhythm, because
sometimes I get lost in my head and I need
you to capture me and bring me out of the
universes that live there and drive me insane.
I think the reason I like you so much is
because you are you;
you complete me in ways that I didn’t know were incomplete,
and I really really really hope I can
be the piece that completes you.
I’m scared that I won’t be, you know.
I’m scared of a lot of things,
and the biggest is that I’m not enough.
I think the reason I like you so much is
because when I catch your eye as I’m rambling about
my latest words, I don’t see a bored look.
I feel safe somehow, like maybe I can be enough
and maybe what you want is five feet three inches of glitter,
stardust, and me.
Copyright 2017 by Annie Louise Twitchell