Who’s that girl.

I find it in your short hair,
in your intense eyes when
you talk about your home
town,
in your conception of the
world as a place filled with
ridiculousness,
in your guilt of staying at
a place because of the
pressure it adds on that
person,
in your love for walking,
in your tired mind before
your first cup of coffee,
in your just as tired mind
after your first cup of
coffee,
in your incredibly uneven
teeth,
in your broad smile with
those crooked teeth,
making me feel more
confident about smiling
with my own crooked
teeth,
in your freckles on the back
of your neck when you sit
in front of me,
in your tomboy nature,
in your addiction to public
transportation,
in your ideas on how to
save money on public
transportation,
in your complete lack of
sense of direction,
in your recycling,
in your desire to say the
things you feel,
in your shyness when
wanting to say something
in class,
in your ability to talk to all
people,
in your wanting to talk to
me,
in your hope of getting
through all the drinks,
in your fitness nightmares,
in your many mysteries
yet to be solved,

I find you.

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