I Like Your Face.

I like your face.

Not because you have nice eyes or a great smile.

You have those things, but they’re not why I like your face.

I like your face because it’s expressive.

I like your face because you can’t hide when you’re happy.

I like your face because it lights up at every dopey thing I say, like a little prize for being me.

I like your face because your teeth aren’t perfect but you don’t hide them for a second when you smile.

I like your face because the second I see it I remember exactly who you are and why I love you.

A living record of every cheeky look and badly muffled giggle.

I like your face because it’s yours.

I like your face.


The kind of awkward poetry-adjacent nonsense you come up with between 1.50am and 2.00am when you can’t sleep.

Like what you read? Give Max Bowes a round of applause.

From a quick cheer to a standing ovation, clap to show how much you enjoyed this story.