I like the way you smoke your cigarettes.
And how your forehead tenses when you think.
I like the way you hold my hand.
How you tell me stories.

I can never get enough of you.

I wish I could draw back the curtains,
peer just behind your eyeballs, to the brain.
Sit for awhile in your beating heart.
Kiss your lungs and beg them to breathe forever.

Tell me a story, just one more story.

I'd miss the way you smile at me,
just after you know you've made me laugh.
I'd miss the way we sleep together, the
way we lay intertwined.

I'll close my eyes, and pray I never lose you.