I close my eyes and imagine your touch on my skin. The way your fingers feel, light on the softest parts of me. Pressing gently into my temple, relieving the stress from the day, or lingering on my shoulder as you lean in and kiss the spot where my clavicle meets my neck. I imagine you reaching for my hand, intertwining your fingers tenderly with mine as if my hand is the most precious thing you’ve ever touched.

I crave you.

I love the sound of your laughter, the way it echoes off the walls of my mind, even when you’ve fallen silent. I love the way your voice seems to carry a melody that only I can hear when I read your words. I love the way you listen, value my thoughts as equal as we both share secrets in the safe space we’ve created around us.

You have my attention; every part of me comes alive when I’m with you.

And there are a hundred and one distractions: to-do lists and deadlines, messages to answer, books to read, pieces to write, thoughts running wild, but I can’t seem to focus. There are people whose words flash across my cell phone screen; there are messages left unread. Because no matter what I do, I can’t seem to get you out of my head.

And I could be halfway across the world from you, I could be on the other side of the universe chasing my own dreams, I could be miles and miles apart from your smile, from your lips. But even when I’m not in proximity with you, I feel close.

Because of all the things that take up space in my mind, all the potential plans, all the invitations and interruptions and ideas, I am concentrated on you. And I simply don’t have room for anything, or anyone else.

I could be teased with all the riches in the world, I could be tempted by luxury, by fancy clothes, by candlelit dinners and romantic gestures, but I still wouldn’t lose my focus on you. I could be coaxed by sweet words, almost convinced by someone whose voice sounded sticky-sweet in my ear, but those smooth sentences would all fall short.

Because the only attention I want is yours.

I just want your words, your time, your mind. I just want to understand who you are, where you’ve been. I want to spend hours learning your history, rewinding back through the years I’ve missed. I want to discover what makes you angry, what parts you hide, where you’re scared to let me touch. I want you to open to me, and I want to let you in, too. Piece by piece.

Because there’s something about the way you make me feel, something about the way my body lightens, my heart pounds wildly, my brain slows at the sound of your voice.

There’s something about the way I feel like I’ve known you forever in just a single moment.

There’s something about the way you’ve captivated my mind, taken control of every wandering thought and focused them each on you.

There’s something about you that has all my attention. And I don’t mind one bit.

Marisa Donnelly is a poet and author of the book, Somewhere on a Highway, available here.