My love, can’t you see me?
I’m holding out my hands to you. Take them so I can hold you in my arms again.
My love, can’t you hear me?
I’m crying out my heart to you. Listen to my words so I can spill secrets like sugar.
My love, can’t you feel me?
I’m trembling in front of you. Hold me tight so I won’t shatter.
My love, can’t you taste me?
Bittersweet like blood on your tongue, tears mingling with soap in the deep night.
Kiss me and I’ll crumble like a castle, so sturdy and strong until this very moment.
My love, I see you.
The smile that crinkles your warm eyes, flashes the teeth I can barely remember the bite of.
The hands you use to unscrew bottles, entwine with my own, tangle in my hair.
The muscles that shift under your skin, moving you closer to me, away from me.
The skin that burns like a candle, electrifies me to the touch.
My love, I hear you.
The laughter coming out of you like steam from a kettle.
The unfunny jokes you can’t help but make.
The lyrics you sing along to in the car.
My love, I smell you.
On the throw pillows of the couch after you’ve left the room so empty.
In the hallway in front of your bedroom, a ghost apparating in the dead of night.
On my own shirt, in my own hair, in my own bed, hours after you’ve gone.
My love, I feel you.
The weight of your legs draped across mine, trapping me where I sit.
Your chest against my back when you guide my hands into the proper position to bear weight.
The gentle thunk of your head on my shoulder when the evening comes to a close.
Your fingers slipping away from mine when you let go too soon.
My love, do you see me?
Lighting up when you walk in the room, smiling when I meet your gaze.
My love, do you feel me?
Holding onto you a moment too long every time we meet.
My love, do you taste me?
I want you.
My love, do you hear me?
I love you.