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.