There's something special about someone
you can lie awake in bed with all day,
Seeing you with your knotted hair and morning face
and still thinking you're someone worth kissing.
You can find it in the way they lie in any position at all
as long as it's wrapped around your body,
The way that they ignore every responsibility they'd said was so important
because laughing with you, your face buried in their neck,
is the single thing that surpasses everything else the world demands of them.
You’ve each held others before, the same way.
Limbs intertwined as many ways as can be found,
touching as much of their skin with yours as your shapes will allow.
You've explored the unknown inches of someone's body and
felt the chill down your spine when they did the same.
You’ve held others before,
but that doesn’t make it any less spectacular.
His legs feel different against yours than any you’ve felt before.
His lips are a new taste, a new shape,
a new, original kind of magic.
He makes different sounds as he falls asleep
and sometimes he narrates his dreams.
His face takes a different shape when he’s about to kiss you,
and a different shape yet when he only wishes he could.
His hands find new resting places on your frame
separate from those anyone else has discovered
and he’s found new words, still, to send
fluttering into the pit of your stomach
and color your cheeks a shade
that you pray he can’t see in the dark.
There’s something special about someone
you can lie in bed with at night,
Listening to your stories that never come out right,
if they ever come out at all,
and still trying to convince you that
you’ve got something worthwhile to say.
There’s something special about someone
who holds potential to make you feel a new feeling.
Whose mystery still intrigues you
and whose company still satisfies you,
Whose stories you still care to hear
and whose lips are still an enticing thought.
And he’s clearly insane,
But you’re really happy that
with your knotted hair and morning face,
**he still thinks you’re someone worth kissing.
