J In Apartment J Poem by Belle Violet

He's strange;
But I like him.
His room is small
And there are candles
on his desk.
He has two guitars in the corner
and a shelf full of meds.
But I like him.
He smells fantastic and distinct;
I can't place it but he's fragrantly
disarming
to me.
He's funny sometimes
and serious at others.
He tells me the same stories
but, I'm not really bothered.
I kind of like him.
He seems hard to read to me
but I'm getting more comfortable.
I still fumble my words
and flush,
and rush through my stories,
and wonder
If he's listening;
because one time he shushed me.
He wanted me to hear him play
"Carol of the Bells"
Well,
I guess it showed he has balls.
Besides, I'm not one for
excessive manners and all.
He's a little abrasive.
He's a little storm cloud.
He's a little disjointed,
I noticed, it's allowed;
I imagine his mind
Is a haze most times.
But sometimes you can see him
break through a little,
and sometimes there's something
of a silly spark visible.
And he's entirely natural
and entirely human
and he's entirely capable
of rendering me useless
when it comes to fending off
his charm.
I'm not sure if he's lazy
or crazy
or cruel;
I'm not sure if he's dishonest
or says nasty things too.

I don't know that I want to know
that stuff this soon.

So if we're using each other,
I'll use him first
and get the satisfaction of knowing
he got what he deserved