Invite me into the pages of your insecurities
and all you find is wrong with you.

Dig the deepest of tunnels
and bury me there in the corner of your brain,
but the part that holds all your obsessions,
of collarbones,
romantic comedies,
of expensive whiskey,
of me.

Tangle me up in your bed sheets,
make it feel like more than infatuation.
Throw me into the cell where you've locked away your worst self;
show me the bad with all of your good.

Dance me across the floor where you lay your heart out.
Guide me around every fragile part
and trust that they won't be shattered under my feet.

Write me the words of your universe
and show me the flight of your hands
upon my face,
down my spine,
around my legs.
Make me believe I'm the first one
to ever make your wrists shake
and your mouth uncertain.

Draw my name on your forearm,
under your sleeve.
Hide it from your mother and know that as long as it's there,
I exist.

Carve me into the headboard of the bed you plan to take with you
the next place you go.
Remember me there every time you move your pillow
away from its place against the wooden frame.

Drink me in as you drink in your coffee
from across the table.
Pass me the syrup and your grinning lips.

Study my movements
as you pretend to study your crossword,
and I'll study your reflection on my spoon
as I pretend not to notice.