There’s something about your face 
That makes me want to laugh 
In a kind of mean-spirited way-- 
Maybe the freckles half-obscuring your skin 
Or the fluffy uni-brow 
Perhaps also the distinct crook in your nose 
They make me want to giggle and poke at you 
Like a child fascinated by something ‘different’ 
I don’t know why, but I want to laugh 
When I see your face.

There’s something about your face 
That makes me want to kiss you-- 
The set of your jaw when determined to win 
At Monopoly, perhaps that is it? 
Or it’s that beautiful curious look 
That slips across your face when catching sight 
Of a new book that you’ve never seen before 
It might be how stressed out you look before work 
I don’t know why, but I want to kiss you 
When I see your face.

There’s something about your face 
That makes me want to shove you 
Hard, into a trash can or maybe onto our bed-- 
Sometimes it’s your irritating way of always being right 
Or maybe the tantalizing curve of your lips as you smile 
It could be because you poke too much fun 
Of this overly cautious, straight-laced girl 
Who never does what you think’s really fun 
I don’t know why, but I want to shove you 
When I see your face.

Yet there’s something about your face 
That makes me love you like it’s a requirement to do so-- 
And there’s no way to stop it 
Whenever I see you, my heart misses a beat 
Or two, or three, or even more if you’re touching me 
Not even in a ‘special’ place, just a quick brush 
Of our hands, or our lips, or even our elbows--
(Maybe not our elbows) 
But there’s a constant river of electricity flowing between us 
Wild, uncontrollable, but sweet and gentle and completely enamored with love

I love you, adore you, praise you, dance with you, poke you, 
And love you some more. 
I don’t know what that something is 
But maybe it’s everything about you 
All your flaws (though they’re not really flaws), mistakes, and successes 
All your cute little nuances in speech and movement 
You’re perfect, even though the meaning of perfection has been stolen away 
By people who try to apply it to imperfect (not bad, just not you) things 
I think I now know why I want to love you and why I do 
When I see your face.