Love poem for a boy not big on poetry.

Though I don't brush my hair,
I found myself pulling tangled strands from my brush.
I smiled as I shook my head -
You.
A scent like Sunday morning
filled the cramped bathroom.
It was all bright white light
and your broad flat back
amongst the sheets.
I move close to you,
so close I forget which body is mine,
which body is yours.
My forehead against your shoulder,
I inhale -
You.