Becoming so attached—so intertwined—so obsessed—with your touch
your smell, your smile.
The way you tongue rests on your lip for that one second; the way you look from the corner of your eye;
the way the crease around your mouth widens; the subtle dimples that hide behind your rugged hair.
Falling into your arms—your neck—and then your chest, attaching myself to your being.
You’ve become so much more important than you are, than you seem to be, than you should be.