Something Borrowed

I love to wear your jacket. The way that it smells like two parts thick smoke and one part cologne.

I love the way that you wink at me. The way that the slightest flutter of an eyelid leads to a kiss on the cheek, leads to your hands around my waist, leads to your lips soft on mine and, oh. 

I love your smile. Half of your teeth exposed, the whole world, my whole world, lighting up, startling the fireflies sleeping, no longer sleeping, beneath my lungs.

I love the way that you make words, like acrylic paint smeared thick on fresh canvas, like rain gently falling on a still pond, like headlights on a deserted desert highway late at night.

I love you for the way that you make me think of sunrises yet to come, for the way that you make me want to wake up someplace new every morning (or wake up at all like never before) but still make me willing to wait for it.

I guess that the best way to say it may be simple. 

I love you.


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