I want all of you. I want your eyes and the memories that hold their hand, and shushes it so that, though it's presence is known and acknowledged, it is silenced and calm. I want your smile that shines the walkway down your throat, past your lungs, and straight to your core. I want your skin and the paintings on them, paintings of days with no sunlight and straight lines of red. I want your love. Every moment of joy and pain and sorrow and guilt, I want. I want every goodmorning, after a night's worth of goodnight. I want the fear of saying goodbye to you; knowing that at any moment, the pit would find it's way back home in my stomach, as you're gasping for your last taste of sweet, sweet air. I want your love.