An Open Letter

You should be made illegal.
You should not have met me, I should not have laid eyes on you.
You should be against the law, and away from me.
You should not be allowed to be so nice, and giving.
You should not be so gentle and funny, and smart.
You should never have befriended me.

You should not look at me like that,
with your eyes half open and groggy from alcohol,
a loopy grin playing on your lips,
and mischief just waiting in the air.
You should not worry about me,
and make me feel important,
like if I disappeared you'd care.

You should not make me laugh,
and make me feel like there's life in my veins,
like I'm eighteen again with no scars on my heart.
You should not make me feel safe,
even when I've just given you the key
to get past my defenses.

You should not be able to brush my embarrassment under the rug,
like it never happened, like it doesn't matter.
You should not be allowed to make me feel at peace,
even when you're driving half-drunk down a deserted road.
You should not make me feel like you won't break my heart.

You should be made illegal.
You should not ask how I am,
if I've gotten home safe.
You should not text me back,
you should not ANSWER.
You should not take me to places
that take my breath away,
because you felt the same way when you first went.

I should not so easily have fallen for your gentle charm,
and the way you speak so softly.
I should not have let you in,
and felt your warm presence.
I should not have felt that pang of jealousy
when she put her arm around yours 
and you smiled at her the same way you do with me.