Average

I'm starting to think

that I have a problem with your mouth;

I see it more often than I see you.

My guess is that, maybe,

it is a normal mouth.

Common.

Average.

Every now and then I find it in other women

and, unfortunately for them,

I suddenly find myself lost in the conversation.

And, even though I, most likely,

didn't even see it on you for the first time,

to me, that mouth is, undoubtedly, yours.

To me, it's you who's speaking

and I don't understand why

you do it in foreign languages,

why those lips, that belong to you,

don't express themselves the way you do.

They say weird things

or, even, they avoid rambling.

They go straight to the point,

as if telling me how something feels was unimportant.

As if telling me where magic occurred wouldn't matter

nor why this world should be a place full of excitement

where love is the way to go.

I guess I must assume that,

sticking to the truth,

your mouth is just common,

average.

Who would've guessed

that that would be what,

when I saw you

would stand out and get me hooked.