The streets outside my window are deep black,
Slick with silver rain,
Illuminated completely, every so often, by a sudden violent flash.
And I think in flashes like that
At this late hour.
I think in strobes
Of your face.
I don't know why I wonder what you're doing.
I don't know why I wonder
How your skin would look
Lit by a sheen of rainwater
In those flares of white lightning.
What shadows would deepen your collarbones
And how your eyes would look,
Half lit with their part mischievous, part vulnerable glint.
I don't know why I keep stumbling into the thought of you
As I travel my mind in the dead of night.
I wonder if her lips are soft.
And I shake myself,
Think it would surely be wrong to find out.
You and I are so oddly close
So suddenly
And I could lose that.
And here there is not much else I have
To lose.
And yet
I think in flashes tonight.
A glimpse of skin in my mind,
Skin and words and rain ssssliding down the windowpane.
A burst of feeling that I blush my way out of
In the dark
And try to turn platonic.
In these past days, I've tried to bend my heart's gaze away
But I keep stealing little glances,
Truth be told.
I am curious. I am fascinated. I am drawn.
And it is late, and I am uncertain,
And outside the rain comes down with wanton savagery,
Total abandon,
And something in me leaps at the sound
And calls for me to answer it.
Something inside me surges like lightning,
A white hot bolt singing through my bones
Making them ache sweetly,
And I want to come down, as well.
With total abandon.
Just fall.
I try to shut it off,
But only casually, only halfheartedly.
In the deepest part of me,
I rejoice that I barely know you,
For there is so much to discover, so much to see.
In the private room of my mind,
I am shamelessly captivated.
Who are you?
What are you?
I want to know. I want to know everything.
I want to read your soul.
Rain your words down on me like a sudden storm,
I want them all.
I want them worked into my skin, slow.
What am I saying? Who are you?
Who knows:
Who are you
So immense
So enigmatic
That I must think of you only in parts,
In little glimpses?
That I fear the way I
Must
Think of you?
Who are you
That I am stirred and uneasy
That my thoughts arc toward you as if pulled by gravity?
Who are you
That I am so caught
And so unprepared?
You see...
I so rarely meet anybody
I want to feel with.