Feel like pulling, and tangling
My hair with my fingers, when
I can't see you, can't feel your warmth
(but in a good way, of course).
It's a desirable frustration to have you,
Then to go without, a kind of restraint
That is bitter and dark, but enlightening, too.
And everything fits so right, it's perturbing
That I've never found this sort of thing, before
And is it strange, to think, that maybe
This was more than just a chance meeting?
To think that we, casual acquaintances we were,
Could've been so like minded all along, without
Knowing, or even suspecting, the possibility
Of love, and understanding, and all that has
Come in due course, as of late, is it strange?
That I find myself missing the way, the
Contours of our body are so symmetrically placed
How your own dark curls lay beside my skin,
So blatant in contrast, but not harsh or offending,
As such things can sometimes be, and your eyes,
Oh god, how can I not get lost in them?
And how to describe, the green and the gray,
Ringed in gold, and so curious, and quaint.
And the dark of your lashes, the curl of the corner
Of your mouth when you smile, between kisses,
It's sweet, and endearing, and creates such an ache
Like you wouldn't believe, how it affects me.
And the talks that we have, about life, about love,
About strife, about learning, and growing, and knowing
Ourselves and our peers, and the words they go on
Like we'll never grow old of the words, and their meanings,
So wrapped up in turmoil, emotion and highly
Opinionated, rantings? I can't call them that, they're
So focused and pointed and see how we fall asleep
Half of the way through them, and wake, and continue
With nuzzles and soft sighs in between, in the night,
Or the light, the day, doesn't really matter either way.