It's past midnight and my head is full of you.

The things you say
and hate
and like
and worry about,

the conversations we have had
and the ones I want,

the way you smile
and mock me
and laugh
and tease,

the habits you have of hidden insecurity
and lapsing into other languages
and talking low and fast,

even the way you sound when you have a cold
and your voice is slightly off.

I am in love with all of it.

I haven't thought about anything else for hours.