the way i feel about you?
it's a gorgeous sort of pain in my chest
(sharp and insatiable)
and a low burning deep in my belly
(smoldering and
always
for you).

it's the
slow smiling kisses when we know we should be going,
it's the
way you breathe when we're close
(raggedly and
oh god.)
it's your tongue and your hands and your eyes
and the way you smile and the way you laugh
and the way you tell me i'm beautiful
(so truly
with eyes downcast and smile tugging
at the corners)
it's your arms around my waist and your fresh-shaved face against my forehead.
it's you,
and i love it.

a year ago -
before i knew you, much less
loved you -
but still, it's alive for both of us:
his hands on the girl you love,
his sweaty tongue fumbling in my mouth for something he wouldn't find

(you did.)

haven't you heard the buzz that,

the funny girl's dating the smart guy, and

aren't they cute, they've been friends forever,
but,


they're so sweet and
she's so artsy and adorable and

oh my god he's hilarious i love him

and, well

we all

saw it coming.

poetry like drops of water,
is tumbling off my fingers,
whimsical and sugar-sweet, and all because of you.

poetry for
your lips in my hair,
the teasing snarl you make when you gnaw at my ear,
poetry for your hand squeezing mine.

if i could sing, i would sing it,
the way you love me.

i'm writing poetry for your arms around my waist
or slung across my shoulders.
i'm writing poetry for the stars in your eyes,
for the smell of you on my clothes,
for your laughter.
i'm writing poetry for the things you make me feel:
for the want and the wonder,
for the luckiness, the love.

i'm writing poetry for your tongue in my teeth and your heart in my hands.
i'm writing poetry for you knowing me to my core,
and i'm writing poetry because you're my best friend.

i'm writing poetry for the **** and the silly,
i'm writing poetry for the laughter and the light.
i'm writing poetry for us,
and i'm not going to stop.

i'm writing poetry for whispered sweetness and shouted teasing,
i'm writing poetry for hooked fingers and muffled laughter.
i'm writing poetry for hearing your heartbeat,
i'm writing poetry for swinging our hands like summer's already come.
i'm writing poetry for feeling you,
i'm writing poetry for the scratch of your stubble and the nudge of your nose
on my neck, my face, laughing the whole time.
i'm writing poetry for our taste in music and books
for our sense of humor,
for our stupid love story,
and i'm writing poetry
for you.

sitting on your couch with my
leg wrapped around yours,
your hands in my hair and our
kisses like drowning -

well, this must be bliss.

head buzz, heart stop, breath catch, smile light
eyes grin, stomach flip, hands sweat, laughter burst, and
boy -
i'm crazy for you.

i've never been
happier.

because last night (everything i waited for).

where do i begin?

i suppose with the way that
lying in your arms
laughing at the scary movie flashing from your tv,
i felt so incandescently perfect.
i suppose with the way that
our first kiss (if you can call it that)
was the most hilariously, adorably, endearingly awkward thing
that has probably ever happened to anyone ever
(i could taste your nervousness)
and i suppose with our smiling whispered teasing conversation
about how much better we'll get.

i suppose with the way that you told me i was beautiful.
i suppose with the way that your stubble scratched against my forehead when you would talk.
i suppose with the way you laughed at me, quietly, when i would get scared
(there were ghosts on the screen
and i don't believe in them, but ****, did they look real)
and the way you laughed at me, loudly, when i would babble to your sister,
uncontrolled and verbal-*****,
because i just want her to like me
(my quirks?
the reason you love me,
you said.)

i suppose with the way that our fingers twined together.
i suppose with the way that you stroked my hair.
i suppose with the way that you told me
how long you loved me
how long you tried
(and all of it
paying off
now.)