to every girl who makes me choke on my double vodka and lime

I sat for the whole afternoon watching Andrea Gibson before stumbling on Lauren Zuriga's "Confessions of an Uneducated Queer". Suddenly I felt entirely okay to say all this. It's a work in progress.

The first girl I liked had hair the colour of honey that spilled down her back and clung to my thoughts and I don't think I ever got over her but I moved on. Eyes the size of the moon, they would make me swoon, as rich as chocolate and as deep as every infinite wishing well I found myself staring longingly down at 

the floor because I could never make eye contact for more than a second before the hour hand was rushing past my racing heart.

Even now, when I sit in lecture halls filled with hope, I choke on daydreams too big for my body that leave me wondering what your words would taste like when we meet.