So, I met a boy.
I met a boy when he asked to borrow my lighter even though he had one, anyway.

I met a boy with irises akin to liquid gold and honey;
Who doesn’t think his eyes are pretty but I can’t think of anything more spectacular.

I met a boy who let me borrow his T-shirt;
Who says he trusts me.
I met a boy who bought me five dollar wine;
Who called me strong.

I met a boy with thick, dark hair;
A burning gaze, soft skin.
Strong, capable arms;
Captivating presence.

I met a boy.
I met a boy.

Shit.
This is bad.