It, is Love.

It makes no sense.

You could bring me fresh flowers once a week.

I've always wished someone would do that.

You could have that dark, swoopy hair that I adore.

That's what I always pictured you would have.

You could surprise me while I was taking a nap by climbing under the covers with me.

That's my secret hope whenever I shut my eyes.

You could even love my favorite song.

No one knows that song. How did you?

And yet...

I still wouldn't fall in love with you.

But why not?

It makes no sense.