With you, I want everything.

I want to take chances.
Exchange side glances.
Stay up 'til dawn with talks,
filled with sarcastic remarks.

I want to trace the ***** of your nose
and measure the length of your toes.
I want hair and skin slathered with "I Love You's."
Political discussions over empty bottles of *****.

I want to whisper in the mornings and shout in the evenings,
how much to me you mean.

But you... You already know...

You see it when I take chances,
in every one of my not-so-sly side glances.
In my droopy eyes that I refuse close,
while I lose myself in your sardonical prose.

You see it when I admire your face,
only to view others following with disgrace.
My "I Love You's" will never run dry,
unlike those useless bottles.

Nothing gets me drunk quite like you.