Nicotine*

I could hold your hand
through the hottest weather
(Your magnetic pull never
fails to draw me in),
I could stick to your chest
the same way my
sweat soaked hair sticks
to the back of my neck.
I could pillow fight my way
through sadness with you,
even though that's exhausting
with only a small, stand up fan
as the source of cold air
on a 40 degree day.

My feet were sore in the end
but it was worth every second I
got to walk besides you,
even when it felt like my feet
could not possibly
take another step.
And I love that eager, anticipating
look on your face as you searched
for your favourite collection of cars,
and I hope I am enough to wipe off
that look of disappointment
and sadness I saw cross your face
when you didn't find any.

The train rides are my favourite -
places where you can squeeze
my hand harder for
no apparent reason,
places where you can pull me in
for a tighter embrace,
the place where I could have
had a small nap
but instead kept myself awake
by counting the
freckles on your arm;
24 and more.