pieces of me

You;

You; the definition of love.
The ending to my unending faucet of wondering. The secret song of "where to?" and, "why not?"

You; the tug and pull of my creases.
The warmth on my skin. My mind can't help but- *rewind* it can't help but t-*rewind*

Many similar minded folk could say, that those eyes of yours are like an ocean; but your eyes-- a field of hydrangeas. Like an empty highway that goes on, and on, and on, and on. I once in a while, when you are not looking; find myself fixated on the two. So deep, and so kind. I've heard them. The ones who say that it's like being this "stuck." Being this "trapped." It's a feeling of not knowing if wether or not to keep on gazing shamelessly; until I am in an utter disarray of embarrassment, that they have turned back towards me."Red light!" And so, I stop.

But my ears boil, and my heart, may have forgotten the conti-*repeat* the-*repeat*
Your eyes; a million years long, and freckle to short of a glance.
In them, a different picture is held. No matter what angle, or how many times I decide to look at them. I can only see myself differently.
...You think differently.

A beautiful picture of pastel spreads, and sky. Sky, stretching on forever. Blues and pinks, oranges and reds.

Before, it me; and it mind.
Now you; the sweet song of mid-November.

I'm writing this in the back seat of the car, as I watch the world wash away beside me. My mood and mind sway with the music that plays.
And listen times five ticks to six.
and my imagination; sees me dancing. Dancing, and leaping, stretching out. Out; and curling in, as a feather could.

You're voice; molasses and milk. So soft and warm. On cold nights, I wish to hear the mellifluous bounce of words that you bring to my calming. Until I drift away.
Your embrace; ineffable. I can almost feel my inside, become my out. A place where no one can hurt me.
Your smile; ethereal. It makes me wonder. How someone so lovely and bright, could fancy me.
Oh, fancy me.