a poem of slightly romantic words written hours after telling approximately 7 people that I never write love poems

by Cesca Ledesma

I would like to think I am the type of girl
    that hates it all
buys half-priced chocolate on February 15th
        just to spit it back out
but oh,
    I am such a hopeless romantic
        looking at you
    the way the sun looks through a window
warming up each cold glass pane
    with her body
till the last ray dies on the carpet
            does it all again tomorrow.