You don't have his eyes memorized.
You know they're green, sometimes
But they're elusive when you try to draw them with your fingers.
You aren't confidantes with every last cell in his hands
Or know the moons of his fingernails.
And you can't taste his lips when he's not there.

You don't know him yet, and that's fine.
But you need to remember that.
I think if you had his minutiae immortalized in your mind
And you could already sculpt his eyes out of air
You would be in far too deep
Far too soon.