He asked her this one question.

She, beside him, curled up in her small frame. Knees tucked to her chest, pink lips, and coffee stained teeth, she smiled small.

"I've been asked this question by many," she says, "And I've always said things like someone's voice, or the way they held me. Maybe it was their laugh or the way my heart ached when I smelled their t-shirts at night.
You, though, will always leave me with an unanswered question.
I don't know why I love you but for some reason, my heart will whisper your name when I'm too intimate with a bottle pressed to my lips.
When the tears I cry are warm from the sound of your voice when it pours through the videos we've laughed in.
I don't think I love you but my heart does. Maybe that's why my mind cannot think of any reasons because you lie in my chest where it aches the most."

in the space between us
everything connects me to you
each infinitesimal atom a bridge

the same way
I could feel your skin
and we'd never touch

Quarter to midnight,
we rise to the highest peak.
Clothed in nothing but moonlight,
drunk as you fill me in.
Didn't want to rush,
you just had to push it in too deep,
All you did is touch,
Savoring the feel of your heartbeat--
Sweet ecstasy.

Touch symmetry
Touch you and me
Touch a pleasant view
Touch the axis of dew

Touch symmetry
Touch you and me
Touch parochial existence
Touch homicidal resistance

Touch symmetry
Touch you and me
Touch love and light
Touch a galaxy of delight

those slender fingers ache
with frost touched tips
when hands join not
and severance of limb
not of your own body
comes away like snow
falling from the sky
so naturally but so coldly

I can still feel
your cheeks
pressed against mine,
your eyes locked on mine,
your heart beat as you
lay on my chest,
your hands caressing
my face,
my heart wanting to burst,
except this time
it's because
you are gone.

be soft to the touch
and life will be tender on its body

When I stood
before my mirror
I put my hand down
raised to touch the moon.
Still, I say it's beautiful!

She liked how the carpet felt,
Scratchy against her cheek,
And how its texture grounded her to reality
When her thoughts were sweeping her away.

She sought after the smell of salt water and sand,
One deep breath in through the nose,
And her anxiety would slowly subside
As she listened to wave after wave crash against the shore.

She lost herself in soundtracks and sonatas,
The mournful requiems,
And the notes guided her along
To understanding the emotions she couldn’t put into words.

She collected novel after novel,
A colorful bouquet of covers and the crisp black of the text,
And she could never part with them
Because they painted pictures better than her eyes did.

She coveted the taste of hot coffee,
Sipped slowly and purposefully,
And how it forced her to take time for herself
Despite her propensity to skip the present in favor of the future.