I can barely remember the contours of your face,
but I memorized the way your hands bend and the way your fingers curl. It's because I can imagine them pressing against my ribs.

Your name comes to me in vague shades of letters, but I remember the tone of your voice.  It's because I can imagine you howl all night,  and if I feel calm enough I can imagine you whisper my name.

I can almost feel the ridges of your throaty laugh rustle against my skin.  I can almost picture the vivacious color of your eyes staring back at me.

I wonder if it is a weakness. I feel all these thoughts filling up my head, constantly multiplying until they spill. The overload only worsens the tightness in my chest.  This is all because in this time and age I can't tell you what I dearly want to say;

I want you.