i want to lay you down on covers you sink into.

i want to lose my eyesight for a few hours so i only see you with my hands.

with the ridges of my fingertips.

i want to know your smell. if it's dark or light.

i want to know if there's a mole on the inside of your thigh. i want to know if youre ticklish.

i want to know what it feels like against my skin when you smile.

i want to bust a move to some eighties' song and not feel selfconscious.

i want to bring you a tulip from my mom's garden.

i dont know exactly where my life's going to go, but very few people really do.

i can only picture bits of my life i would like to happen.

the house i'd like to build, one day, out in the country. off a road not often driven down on more than a couple of acres with trees.

the beautiful beautiful child i'd, one day, like to say is mine.

and you.

you're the hardest thing to picture, now.

i know you're perfect, with a million faults. i know we'll fight and you'll get frustrated with me. i know you've got a beautiful smile and you look me straight in the eyes. i know we'll dance in the kitchen with the lights out all crazy like.

and i know i'll fall asleep with you under the stars and remember nothing but the smile i had.

so why dont you come along and go ahead and make yourself known so i can fill in those things i dont know?

i dont know your eye color or what your hair feels like and if you like cinnamon toast.

hurry up dammit, or you'll miss me in the prime hot-ness of my years.

and you dont want to do that, because god damn. i am hot.