The corners of your mouth.

I know that I am not a poet, I'm not good with words, and my thoughts are quite messy.
I know that my dreams are obscure and my heart beats too fast.
I know that our conversations are trivial, I don't impress you, and you certainly don't care about me.
I know.

But I really don't know how much longer I can stare at the corners of your mouth before I simply go mad.
I don't know why you have that scar on your arm.
I don't know where you're going or where you've been.
I don't know why you walk away.
I really don't know you at all.

Tell me.
Tell me about your passions and what you love and hate.
Tell me what you regret and what is your favorite time of the day.
Tell me about your parents. Tell me about your home.
Tell me all the things that have made you into this luminous, lustrous mystery.

I want to get to know you so I can justify this feeling that I already have.

Shoe Lust.

So obsessed with the shoe section on nastygal right now. After reviewing my finances, I've decided that if anyone has the hookup and would like to sponsor me, I'd be really into that.

I want you, entire.

"I want to know how many scars you have

and memorize the shape of your tongue. 

I want to climb the curve of your lower back

and count your vertebrae

your ribs

your fingers

your goose bumps.

I want to chart the topography of your anatomy

and be fluent in your body language.

I want you, entire."

-unknown