Ode to the serious boy

You're not handsome, in the same way I'm not pretty,

I'll never talk about smooth skin touching and gasps at soft hair,

I don't love you for that.

I don't love for your smile, or laugh, or all the other things that happen in those self same gardens where the smooth skinned and soft haired girls cry after they caught their boyfriend and best friend at the Olive Garden together.

I love you for the furrow between your brows when you're thinking. The way you get so sharp when you try to dissect me. The way you question everything and not just to be right. 

I love you for how serious you get. So many people are afraid to be serious, but you'll go out and do it anyways. You talk about causes long since untrendy and understand dead men better than people knew them alive.

I love the way you look at me, as if to see if I'm impressed. I love the way you try your hardest to beat me and sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't.

I love you for the solid things, and not the fleeting kind.