Am I the one you think about
when the skies open
and you expect a storm to take you?
Am I the one you think about
when sheets turn angry
in the sleepless heat of the night?

This partial solidity,
this gulf of an ocean;
words recited by heavy eyes,
the palm reader's devotion.

Am I the one you think about
when elephants drown in the salt-marsh fields
and tears sting your eyes?
Am I the one you think about
when you apply your eyeliner
and mourn your reflection?

This endless question,
this echo of no movement;
lipstick on your glass will bloom,
my sickly, time-lapse delusion.

Am I the one you think about
when the tanks move in
and you go to war with yourself?
Am I the one you think about
when the skies open
to miles of dust and distance?

She* was your first love and you are mine.
The trouble is I think we are **both still infatuated with that love

When did you first say "I love you"?
Don't worry, I won't care, I'm just
wondering...who first saw you bare?
Did you ever used to play with her hair
like you play with mine, did she
ever look at you, like I do, and just
think "He Shines" like nothing else matters.
Did your hearts patter as you physically
joined.
I won't be mad, I know you've had others, so
have I, it won't make me sad, but
I'm curious,
when did you first say "I love you"?

And did she ever brand your skin, were
you ever just a bit too rough, did you
accidentally wriggle within and make her feel
like she wasn't enough?
We've made mistakes, in the past, so
tell me quick, tell me fast, I hope we'll last,
but what made your past ones
imperfect?
and when did you first say "I love you"?

Because it's the quirks which make the mirth,
did you ever make her laugh, did you force
her lips to part when she told you to leave her.
How much did you grieve her? Do you still
do? And when you watched her leave, when
she watched you plead, did you mentally
whisper "I love you."

And when did you first mean, when did you first say,
"I love you"?