Crushed

Don't you have an inkling?
Why my giant crush?

It's not your nose.

Although cute

It's not your lips

or your hips

They're nice too

It's not your thighs

or your calves

Strong as they are

I know how I'd use them

It's not your eyes

sparkling like ocean waves

in the sun

deep as your soul

it's not the infinite

mystery of your

breasts.

A final clue

for today

is the neatly folded

daily crossword —

I imagine newspaper

ink on your powerful

skilled fingers

the executors of

your mind —

just fitting on

a small clipboard

I spotted on your

coffee table

next to your laptop.

It's your brain

my lovely

the reason of my crush

and what it does

to my heart.