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I Think He
I think he likes me.
Everyone always said that when a boy picks on you,
It's 'cause the like you.
And he's picking on me;
He kicks my chair,
Pokes my back,
Throws paper at my head.
Classic signs, right?
And then, when I turn around,
He has that damn smile,
That beautiful, knee melting smile.
And I get angry at him,
Have to hide my feelings.
Even through I was raised
By the ideal that communication is key,
I can't let him know.
I don't know why.
Maybe because I have never said that,
Or because he's so high above my level.
I don't know, but I know I like him.
And I think he likes me.
