Even if he was 4 foot 2 with buck teeth and greasy hair,
if she was the twin of Satan,
you know you were in love
when you looked into their eyes
or thought about them day by day
You can’t go back on your word
You can think and say anything you like
And try to alter those memories a little so you don’t seem
quite so foolish
When you remember little nicknames
or hours you spent in their company
Remember secret affections, flirtations,
and moments of carefully measured daring
--a slow pixie waltz of enchantment, or death by honey--
and complacent happiness
It doesn’t matter
if things went sour
It doesn’t matter if it never happened
You can’t go back on your word
And your heart will not be denied.