I haven’t smiled in a long time.

But you.

Oh, you.

“What?” you ask me, grinning with those damned eyes.

And as much as I fight it,

I can’t help but smile back.

“Nothing.” I whisper.

But it’s something.

It’s everything.

It’s the way you hold your pens, the way you sigh when you’re tired, the way you grab my hand when we cross the street. It’s the way you try to balance on the curb, the way you always point out the pretty birds, the way you take your coffee.

I think,

maybe,

I might smile more.

I think,

maybe,

it’s you.