If
If you glanced my way in a crowded room, I’d feel my cheeks flush.
If you gave me your smile, I wouldn’t know what to do with my hands.
If I walked up and asked for your hand, would you grant me this dance?
You said yes, but I still felt anxious,
your hands were sweaty too.
Your eyes were as sweet as cinnamon sugar, something unobtainable I’d like to hold.
Dilated.
If you interlocked your fingers with mine,
I’d pull you closer.
If you wrapped your arms around my neck,
I’d press my lips against yours.
If you gave me your dreams, I’d hang the moon in your window.
If you let me cup your thoughts, I’d give you my heart.
If you didn’t give me a reason for your silence,
I’d still sit with you.
If you didn’t trust me enough to share your experiences—I’d still trace your thumb.
If things are difficult between us, I’d still peel the strings off your oranges.
If your knees grew weak, I’d still take you to see the ocean.
The seagulls wailing above, the waves kissing the sand, basking in the suns rays.
If we didn’t get to say goodbye, I’d still close my eyes beside yours.