whenever I look at you
there's a little tingle in the back of my spine
like birds playing on telephone wires
not quite electric but a little
jumpy, sweet, rushing sounds in my ears;
a little pulse in the back of my throat
a little knot in my lungs
where someone I used to know
used to live
and you come in with your magic hands
and you reach into my chest
and unravel so I can breathe