Before tonight, I didn't know
you existed. Even though I've seen you around,
you never occured to me. I've never heard promises in that voice. How many variables can there be in the way we all find our fingers on each other? And speaking of fingers, there's a new smell on the tips of mine. You came to be
this exotic - tell me how.
When I sleep, I will be
still stirred with awe. Staring at the ceiling, I will wonder who and why you are. Do your parents love you?
Do you sing to yourself in the shower and when you drive? How young did your first kiss come? What moment made you and where is the time you could stay forever in? I will desire to dissect you. Measure the rumbling of your stomach. Memorize your fingerprints. Morbidly analyze your
bone density and muscle mass. Count your trips to the bathroom. Stay with you through the common cold, through
trials of tea and chicken soup. Observe the
bulge and flatten of your sleeping belly. Find all the
ticklish spots and all the unnamed
freckle constellations.
You're exciting until I find
the rational piece that makes you common, the element that ties you all together and explains you away.
You're my favorite flavor for the next five minutes.