Bobby is a fast walker and a skeleton. His stride's rhythm can change heartbeats and his small mouth speaks in quotes and catch-phrases. His small bones don't represent his age or mind, but rather his essence. He smiles at the smallest things and gushes over gossip. He forgets to trim his hair but never forgets his camera. He creates reasons to celebrate and always over-does it. He's constantly dancing and never lets anyone skip a song.

Justin is a tall statue with innocent eyes. Eager expressions with a hint of trying too hard. Getting assaulted with kisses and bumping heads in the dark. Holding hipbones and more importantly holding breaths. He is eager to please and happiest making jokes. When he writes he puts his hair back from his face, not hiding, unashamed. He writes poetry on my back that I'll never be able to read, and I trace his freckled shoulders making constellations. He calls me, "Legs," because they're three-fourths of my body.

Adam can recite fifty digits of pi without taking a breath. And then he can recite fifty more. Due to this his diaphragm sits wide and makes him a successful swimmer. He is shy and pensive, but communicates with a spray can and a brick wall. I can spot his drips from a distance, knowing the familial chemical compound scent of paint. He remembers everything and reminds me of conversations we've had and stories I've already told.

Me, I'm a quiet girl with sloppy soliloquies. Every night I drink tea and write exceptionally. My favorite two colors are black, and black. I write everything down from my grocery list to a note of his favorite drink. I speak with very little talk. I never eat the last spoonful, I never burn a candle to the bottom, I never take the last sip, and I most certainly never finish that last inch of a cigarette. It's the bottom of the Chinese food carton where all the sauce collects and the most flavor rests. But I have a tick. That is why we were made for each other. He finishes the last of my cigarette, that's where most of the nicotene is. He will scrape the leftovers from the tupperware, it doesn't phase him. And he is always thirsty enough to finish my alcoholic drinks for me. For himself.