handsome boy at the bus stop
you’re looking at me (or past me)
and i think your eyes are nice but
i look away in an attempt to be coy (or awkward)
i wonder if we are getting the same bus
i look back and you’re still looking
our story unfolds
in my mind you’re sitting with me on the bus
our legs brush, you start a conversation
about my music or a book in my bag
cut to 6 months later
telling all our friends how we met on the bus
meeting your parents and wondering if
you mind that my tights are full of holes
you put your headphones in and i wonder what
your favourite song is, us sharing music whilst laying in bed
whether you’re good at maths or good in bed
you have the nose of a boy that i used to date
and i wonder how you kiss girls
if you mind that i
never wear leggings in public
the bus jolts me awake, you are still
on the street, headphones in
eyes on your phone so i,
through the grimy bus window
can look at you for a little bit longer.