What Would You Say?

This is a poem about meeting someone in class. A progression from loathing to loving.

I have seen you before,

though never spoken a word.

We sat in this room,

only for an hour.

I hate you.

I have no reason to,

maybe it is the way you walk, 

watching how you sway your arms.

Or perhaps it's the look in your eyes,

when I let mine meet them.

The way your leg bounces,

annoyingly anxious.

There is so much to criticize, 

a never-ending list,

but I'll just say it outright.

I hate you.

I didn't think we'd speak, 

as I'm not one to talk,

though you know what you want,

so I'll give you that.

I love you.

It's stupid to say,

and you'd probably agree.

Perhaps its your nose, 

its curves and its bumps,

unique to your face but nevertheless,

fitting perfectly into place. 

Or the way your hair curls and flows,

perfectly to let my fingers run through.

All this just to say.

I love you.

Author's Note

What are things I can keep in mind when writing my next poem? Things to look out for? Mistakes? Always looking to improve so everything is helpful.