You hate when I stare--
Those long, unwavering looks that let me feel like I’m touching your soul,
they’re my favorites.
But you don’t get it…
Don’t get that I’m marveling at you
Your words, your mind, your gestures,
The way your lips melt into your cheeks
and your eyelashes curl so far they touch your skin,
or how your entire face softens when you smile.
I’m memorizing you:
Line by nose,
curve by smile.

I stare because I want to hold your waist,
to touch your arm,
to feel your hand around my shoulder.
I stare because I’m dying.

What is it now?
Is my love too strong?
Do I expect too much?
Have you forgotten about me again?
It feels that way…

As I crave the warmth of your remembrance
someone else has caught your smile
and I have slipped your mind.
It’s understandable, really—
Or can I be so understanding?

You are it for me.

I wake from dreams about you only to curl into the cool, crisp spot where you should be lying in my bed.
I eat breakfast and wonder what you’re doing;
I listen to music to ponder how you feel.
When I’m upset yours is the first number I want to call
and my delight is yours to share.

You have the power to move and remove me
because I will always fall into you and yours.
There is so much to say…
But sometimes I just stare;
I stare because I’m dying.