why I want to see you

you think it's just the idea of you. but wouldn't our exchange of words, boundless, scrunched, uncertain, blissful, all of the above be enough if it was just the idea of you?

no. it's the feeling of vertigo in your physical space that I crave. it's the knowing you'll be there to catch me that excites me. it's the sense that I have that worlds are colliding and earths are shaking and if I close my eyes too hard, I won't be the same girl looking out from them in the mirror.

no. it's that you fit me and you don't. you know me and you don't. you feel me and you don't. and that I have that same uncertain grip on you. it's that excruciating sense of contradictions and the ennui that comes from sensing them that thrills me.

no. it's that sighing never came more naturally to me, or seemed more absurd. it's that i'm a ball of contrary when with you, up down, over, all the limits I'd spent so much time setting, all the rules I had, all the constructs and ideas all seem like a house of cards when you're around. and I don't know why that is exactly, because they were solid for everyone else, impenetrable even.

no. your very soul seeps out from you face to face, limbs to limbs, fingers to fingers. you cannot hide yourself in my gaze and I adore what I see.

no. there is no voice, or hands or body enough to replace you. there are no eyes kind enough to substitute for yours. there are no smiles that even come close to illciting the same frenzy in me that yours can.

you see, you as a whole are enchanting, but you as a body are warm and kind and cherishable. and I miss that kindness. I miss your face. I miss that warmth.

if it was only a matter of closing the door and walking away, I would have done that a long time ago, longer even than this year, longer even than that night, I would have left you standing there with your laundry and your life in your hands, knowing that you were another man I couldn't spare enough to love.

but you have always captivated me, and I stand here, ready to reciprocate, signed up for all that comes with it, intensity, unbearableness, brink driving to and fro, all that you offer with the intrigue that first sunk into me,

and i never want to use the word floss and mean it.