I treasure those eyes the best, so lovely each night. Long lashes fluttering with your trademarked twisted elegance. I trace your skinny hips and kiss your scarlet  lips, we lay  close and and whisper across the quiet divide. I sit  inhaling smoke and exhaling pretty words that roll off the tip of my tongue, sliding down the floor boards. Drinking, spinning in sickly sweet light. I can tell  them, always trusting the people I meet, dancing to the sweet spot. Wicked am I, missing the saunter of those long lovely  legs. Trapped a loop of taunting, teasing laughter. We all talk crazy, tangled and comfortable in each others hair, this is the closest to perfection I've ever been.