“She might be your type.

But I'm the exact font.

I am outside your window.

Throw down your hair.

I mean the hair you pulled from the drain

when you were cleaning your tub.

I want everything you have ever tried to wash away.

The first time you were bullied in junior high.

The last time you blushed from a compliment.

Every fever that hasn't yet broken. It's true,

I have never made a love potion that hasn't blown up,

but your mouth is the sexiest beaker.

Bend me over your periodic table

then try to tell me we don't have chemistry.”