You are simplicity, a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. Your eyes are the color of slate slicked with rain, mine to hold in my gaze, trying to find the tiny brown spot you say I never see. You are long hikes in the summer and car rides in the winter, hand in hand down old dirt roads. You are heavy metal songs louder than the beating of our hearts late at night, drowning out the truths that scream obscenities in our ears. You are uncertainty, an awkward hand that adjusts to hold mine, lanky fingers, calloused and agile beyond your twenty years. Your tongue lacks my linguistic quickness, but I'll never have your gull or guts to attempt the impossible and questionable moments you live for. I'll never see the need to be care-free, climb to your heights, or throw worries down the street like the pages of your favorite book.