Take me for my imperfections, my
neurotic fingers, my brain racing
back and forth along my paranoias
like my fingertips along your skin -
I love the strangest
things, the mountain horizon
of vertebrae and the way your
face curves to meet your neck, and
the breath beneath - it's easy to love
pieces, but you're notes on a piano
put together in a symphony, synesthesia of
beauty, and your eyelashes tickle my cheeks
like stars when I hold you close enough
and I know what I mean when I think of how
there are so few faces like yours.
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