I don’t know what to call this. All I know there’s a flicker where there shouldn’t be and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to disappear. I only feel like it’ll grow brighter. I can feel the subtle hints of burning just a little bit (too much, if I’m being honest.) And I am afraid of how much heat I’ll feel the first time my skin comes into contact with your dancing fingertips.
Is it crazy? How often I think about it? That my pores are already reaching for the sky just imagining it? I think about being next to you. I wonder how much you’d put my heart into overdrive. If I reached out to grab your hand, would you take mine and hold it?
There’s something about you that makes me want to lay in bed learning everything there is to learn about you. Is there a place, maybe dark, maybe hidden, maybe only illuminated by moonbeams and starry lights, you’ve never taken anyone to? I want you to take me there and I want to learn the name of your every constellation. I want even all the little things. I want to be familiar with how your freckles look directly in the sunlight. I want to stop imagining what your voice sounds like when you’ve just woken up, I want to hear it. Is it your neck or the tiny spot behind your ear that gets you?
I want to stay up all night telling you how old I was the first time I ever wrote a poem and just why I felt compelled to do so. I want to tell you about the first time I ever fell in love and recount each heartbreak since. There’s something about you that makes me want to crack open my chest and let you roam through my wilderness. I want to tell you even about all the dark things – how many times I’ve taken a bath and put my head beneath the water, wondering what would happen if I just stayed there. I want to share with you things that would normally scare anyone else. I want to tell you all my secrets, and not just the kind that are kept hidden from the world, but the secrets I bury to hide from even myself.
I want to tell you that you keep infiltrating my dreams and that all I’m thinking of is your tongue curling around my name like a vine. That the only space I want between us is that small gap between the base of our fingers when you’ll intertwine your hands with mine. That I keep daydreaming about how your skin would feel on my skin, how intoxicating your breath would be behind my ear. That I want to fall into you the way each rain drop falls into the sea, that I want to give myself to you this way; lose myself in each and every one of your waves. That I want to collide bodies until we’ve created our own language of limbs. That I want you to take me to that place where the stars have created constellations to be discovered by only you and me.
There’s something about you that makes me comfortable telling you this. There’s something about you that seems so familiar. There’s something about you that is so intriguing. There’s something about you that makes me feel at ease. How often I’ve caught myself thinking about you has me calling myself insane. There’s something about you that has you on my mind more than feels safe. There’s something about you that makes me want your danger. There’s something about you that makes me unafraid.