Girls fall in love with
hair.
Eyes.
Height.
Smile -- stop.
No.

Fall in love with the way he Brushes his teeth
With fruity toothpaste

Fall in love with the way he holds Your hand so that your pulses
Match

Don’t fall for his eyes
Fall for the way its colors remind You of the melody
Of a string of memories

Don’t fall for his touch
Fall for the way your skin burns Where his finger grazes

Don’t fall for his style
Fall for where it comes from –
The color coded patterns of his Closet

Or maybe yet, don’t fall in love

Its superficial sweetness is about As promising as the devil’s smile.