You find the reason to everything and anything because it makes you feel safe, but I --can't kiss you without you wanting to tell me that my eyelids flutter because my eyes get dry and they need to protect themselves from all the pathogenic **** that flutters around me but I'm really just trying to get a better look at you,
why don’t you let me look at you.
Then I begin to cry and you say why tears are tears, and that you wanted a “simple life” with me but youre too busy identifying the complexity of things that you can’t even feel because they lay within your heart, not your hands.
I’m right in front of you but your voice begins to raise and you speak the science of presence and you tell me that i’m your soulmate because your subconscious doesn't always feel so alone when i’m standing right beside you and that you need me to survive but you can't always kiss me because you’re too busy saying that the reason why I think you taste good when you kiss me is because we meant are for each other.
While I’m in your arms you begin to analyze my paragraph of life and how it fits so perfectly beneath yours. But then you rearrange your words and place some in between mine and then I realize I’m the just the loosely placed parenthesis around your syntax of life.