I don't know the touch of your hands on mine,
I don't know how you look at 7 in the morning.
I don't know your favourite nursery rhyme,
I don't know the weight of your arm on my neck.
I don't know how you look when you are in love,
or how you manage to laugh on days where smiling is impossible.
I don't know what you're most scared to lose,
or how many times you have.
I don't know the feeling of your lips on mine,
or why God modeled the oceans after your eyes.
I don't know why I can listen to you speak for hours on end
and never get bored,
or how my definition of 'home' is so encapsulated by one person.
I don't know, and that's okay.
You can teach me.