of all the little, minute and insignificant,
yours are my favourite.
the redness of your face when you have to talk in public
the way you cross your arms high up on your chest
the intensity of your stare
the playfulness
I also rather like the other silly, small things
the way you dance
the way you open your mouth really wide when you sing
the face your pull when you're surprised
the intricacies in the fabric
when you go quiet when lyrics about love are being played
and the force behind your words when singing 'I'll Be Fine'
It's just a shame that these things are hers and not mine