I may be an artist and be able to trace the curve of your smile with the graphite in my pencil but you can create a twinkle in my eye by the way your hands mold around me like lifeless clay unlike any sculptor in a fancy museum.

I may be a poet and can string         together words that describe the way the sunlight bounces off your bones entirely but you can have me smiling stupidly at the way you choose your combinations of twenty six letters to be so intoxicatingly witty.

I may be a swimmer and can go for laps and laps and laps without feeling aches in every fiber of my muscular being but you can have me panting to keep up with you in the endless indigo sea that is your mind.

I may be a lot of things that you are not, but you seem to have the ability to press my abilities when you are just simply being you.