Flirt

I'm an addict.
I didn't know if I could come up here and say these words.
I'm addicted to flirting.

In August,
my co-worker told me to stop hitting on the new boy.
I didn't know what to say.
I wanted to explain that
it's what I do,
that I love it when
their eyes reflect the sunshine
and spring drifts into whatever room
our conversation is dancing in.
I find the sound of his laughter
so much more beautiful than violins
and smoother than practiced waltzes.
I love to ignore the he-she border
My fingertips drawing intentions
on arms and waists
while disregarding sweaty palms.
I can't help but squeal
when he walks into the room,
my excitement breaking the wall
around proper decorum.
It's all rather improper
but you've seen it all before.
Hearts colliding before hands ever meet.
"What are you in the mood for?" He asks.
It depends on far we've gotten in our
back-and-forth-and-back-and-forth
(it hasn't gotten to up-and-down)
but I'll reply
I only want to cuddle.
I wink.
My adoration for the boy I'm talking to
springs out in body-on-body hugs.
Why use one love language
when seven are so much more expressive?
It's the only language I ever want to speak.
And so I flirt.
It's not that I can't help myself,
but in this moment
it's the only time I can allow myself.
See, when Patrick started working with us in the office,
my co-worker told me
Stop flirting.
He has a girlfriend.
I know.
And that's why I do it.
That's why it's safe.
Not because he's taken.
It's not status that matters,
it's pronouns.
He is a he.
And if he doesn't already know it,
he'll soon figure out that
though I am a she
I don't want to date him.
I'd rather date his sister.
But I still fucking love him.

When a girl shows love for a boy,
everyone declares it as flirting.
Girls and boys don't make each other cards.
Blow kisses.
Don't make comments
about how sexy that tie is.
Unless they're flirting.
And when a lesbian shows love to a girl,
everybody else gets nervous.
Lesbians don't make straight, Christian co-workers cards.
Blow kisses.
Make comments about how
they are as delightful as cotton candy.
Unless they're a predator.

My hugs are poison
But even poison seems more appropriate
around girls with white-washed eyes
than saying
"I love you. I'm so happy you exist. You are a beautiful friend."
and why should I only use one love language
when seven are so much more expressive?
But I can't use any.

Flowers picked in a field can only be for romance,
showing appreciation for the breath in another
can only be for romance.

And so I romance all the boys,
because they know I don't want to date them.
I want to love them, like one friend should love another.
And so the world tells me I'm a flirt.

And if I were to meet you for the first time,
my happiness pouring out enough to cure
the desert of her thirst
because this world is so parched
for pure platonic love,
I'd hope you flirt with me too.