Award Winners

I'm not in love with her

Because if I was, I would’ve noticed her hands.

How they’re thicker than you would think they’d be if

you’d just met her.

How they’re small and impossibly soft.

How rings make them look smaller, if that’s

even possible.

How gold and silver look fine, but rose makes her hands sparkle.

I would’ve noticed her eyes too.

How they can be grey or blue

depending on when I look at her, and my

thoughts when I look at her, and whether

or not I’m brave enough to face her while

she’s angry.

I would’ve noticed the white streaks that never

leave her irises, no matter how impatient she becomes.

It’s as if the light can’t part with her.

I would’ve noticed her laugh;

How it always sounds surprised,

like she’s shocked that such a sound could

be coming out of her.

I would’ve noticed how it comes out in short

gusts of wind that she timidly releases.

How loud it grows when she’s tired and how

bubbly it is when she’s just woken up.

I would’ve noticed how small her mouth is.

Not because she doesn’t have anything to

say, but rather because she chooses to be quiet.

She’s much too smart to waste her thoughts on the

people she has to deal with everyday.

I would’ve noticed her smile,

How I only remember seeing it a couple of times.

It’s only there if she isn’t able to laugh or

if she’s thankful she isn’t laughing.

She always covers her mouth.

I don’t see her laugh, I hear it.

I can’t hear her smile, but when I see it

my chest swells and the air is sucked out

of me and the world is suddenly behind me.

But this would only be if I was in love with her.

And I am not.

I don’t see the fact that her steps never have a bounce

because she doesn’t see the point in leaving the ground.

And don’t marvel at the thought that I’ve never

seen her feet!

I can’t tell her that I imagine her face on a daily basis.

How I wonder if she could ever handle the words I

wish to push into her.

I know her ears couldn’t handle them.

But perhaps if she let me love her, I could whisper

them into her mouth so quietly she wouldn’t be

able to hear them.

But I’d be content with the fact that she physically received them.

I know for a fact that I’d notice her hair.

How even tied back, it fills the space around her.

How it’s thin and fragile but somehow makes

Her look much stronger than she believes herself to be.

But of course if I loved her more than I care

to admit, I’d notice her skin.

I’d notice the tiny moles that dot her here and there.

I’d see that her cheeks have an invisible tan,

as if something decided she’d better stay

pale no matter how much sunlight she got.

I imagine she burns.

Or at least I would if I ever allowed myself to think

of you-

or her, rather-

If I didn’t love her, I’d have absolutely no

problem finishing this,

whatever this is,

and I don’t so…

Don’t worry .