Like

I am bruised with longing
While cursed with a tongue
And a disposition
Prone towards coy discretion;
What I’m stumbling to say
What that has possessed me
To attempt to gush with such flowery abandon
So very far above my head
Is terribly simple:
I like you
Like like you, like you;
Pretensions be damned,
I wish to say as eloquently
And precisely as possible
That I completely, devotedly
To the point of obsessively
Like you like you;
It’s so simple but makes me feel
So complicated
I have beaten myself up over this
So that I am now
Bruised with longing
It hurts so I wish I could
Just like you
Instead