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Let’s pretend that
you’re as smitten about me
as I am about you.

Pretend that when
    you walk into the office
    your heart is earnestly hoping
    you’d find me there alone.
Pretend that when
    you ask me how I am,
    instead of doing it
    just to be polite,
    you’re really acting on
    a soul-piercing desire to find
    an excuse to talk to me.
Pretend that you’re
    interested in what I do.
Pretend that I
    am the girl of your dreams
    and the real reason why
    you never ask me
    to join you for lunch
    is because it would
    break your heart too much
    if I ever turned you down.

Then I can stop pretending
    my days aren’t infinitely better
    when you’re near,
and I can stop pretending
    the mere hint of your cologne
    gets my senses going
    stronger than caffeine
stop pretending
    I write stories in my free time
    and fashion all my heroes
    after you,
stop pretending
    you’re just another guy
    and I don’t find you
    handsome and funny
    and adorable and clever
    enough to lose sleep over

and maybe when
you and I have regrouped
the burden of pretense
we can generate
a semblance of attraction
and start something