I text you.
You say that top I’m wearing would look good on your floor.
Then you stop.
‘Us’, ‘we’, ‘you’, ‘me’.
You say you’ll take care of me and I tell you I won’t run away.
You joke about the pressure.
You want to see me again.
You want to kiss me a million times.
You say you’re my guy and I’m your girl.
Our floor, our lives, our one mind together.
You tell me in sleepy pillow talk a thousand miles away.
‘I’m wrapped around your finger.’
‘I’, ‘you’, ‘me’, ‘we’.
I have to google it.
Am I manipulative because of it?
Or do I have way too much power in this situation?
The internet tells me I should be happy.
You are already head over heels.
Am I head over heels?
Are ‘we’ head over heels?
We joke again.
If we were rich, where would we live.
‘New York, of course,’ I said.
‘Let’s get a place in the Caribbean too.’ He said.
An island built for two,
Just me and you.
An island un-alone,
We say it over the phone.
I wish I was permanently near,
So that you and I, us,
Could become an ‘our’.
Two kids just falling in love.