I want to know your mother's maiden name and
The feel of my palms on your skin
And the taste of you
And know what your breaths against the back of my neck are.
I want your hand in my hand and to know the length that you prefer your fingernails at
I want
I want
I want.
I want to know what your eyelids feel like against your eyeballs and
How the blood in your heart works, feel it through your skin
I want to know every person you have ever touched
And their faces,
And the way your skin feels on their skin,
That friend of a friend that you shook hands with ten years ago in a Tuesday morning in September an it was cold out, so you were wearing fingerless gloves, and they'd forgotten their gloves on a bus three days ago and so their hands were bare and your fingertips just brushed their wrist -
I want that.
I want you in the morning, at the kitchen table, sleep-missed an bleary-eyed
And I want to know what you eat for breakfast and if you love bacon
Or if you're not that bothered
And I want to know
Who you were with last New Years
And the New Years before that
And every present you've ever received for Christmas
And every person you've kissed.
I want you to know my thoughts
And I want to know yours
And I want you.