you're sleeping as i write this
dreaming gentle things
your bottom lip, pouting
the last thing i want to do is wake you -
and mess all of this up

i haven't told you that i love you
i'm sure that's what i feel, but the words
themselves
feel
meaningless

i love how you look when you're sleeping
i love your bed head -
straw-colored hair having a mind of its own
i love the gentle rise of your chest -
tempting me to come over and listen to your heart's voice
i love your big dumb feet sticking out from underneath the blanket -
probably deathly cold but still belonging to you

i love this boy in my bed
dreaming gentle things -
being a gentle thing himself

we've made a crevice in my bed
and i'm worried about falling in
and taking you with me

we've come too far
and i don't see where we're going
we need to find our way home

that place in the dark
where the tree lining says goodbye
to the moonlight.

a voice in the room that says -
dream lofty dreams, and as you dream,
so shall you become.

we don't talk anymore
but i don't need to hear your words
when i feel it on the inside.

kissing you burns me
fingers covered in ash
eyelashes singed with hot tears

i cannot love anymore
lest i lose myself
inside the fire

i don't have much to say
except
i still feel your skin on mine
i still see your eyes in the dark
i still yearn for your fingertips everywhere

i'm not a forward person by any means -
but i find myself wanting you,
wanting the quietness of it,
the familiarity of our touching.

and i'm not a selfish person by any means -
but god,
i want all of you and more.

we are live wires
and i'm trying my best
to not catch fire
after you spilled your
affection
all over me.

it's only been two weeks,
and i thought i would forget
the striking blue of your eyes
your straw-colored hair
the quiet, yet loud gaze you give me
when you think i'm not paying attention.

maybe i'm wrong,
maybe i'm only seeing what i want to see,
but i hope you're patient with me.

gentle calloused hand -
on my stomach,
rubbing and stroking.

gentle hot lips -
on the back of my neck,
your whiskers feel
foreign
yet
familiar.

i feel as if
i've looked into your eyes before
i've stroked your upper brow before
i've felt your hair between my fingertips before
and i've done all of this already,
yet it all feels so new.
it's very nice to meet you.