I can imagine the fine hairs on your arm under my thumb as I trace senseless patterns below your thumb. I can imagine the heat of you and the smell of you.

I imagine that you smell dark, natural. Like sun-warmed, fresh-turned dirt. Nothing light. Nothing fake.

A slow paced song would come on. Something like a modern day waltz.

I would stand up, make you dance with me. Slow and close. My hand in the small of your back. You would be embarrassed. You would be the most beautiful woman in the world.

The fireflies would be in the yard, lightning signals to each other as they drift on the breeze.

I can see all this, all this stuff that probably won't ever happen, all this stuff I wish for deep within the bones of me, all this... perfectness between us, honesty, no hidden secrets, no wonders about anyone else in our past or in our future because this, that moment, all the moments make us sure.

For once I will be honest and open and unafraid of exposing myself and surrendering. I will allow myself to be vulnerable because you will have shown me that it is okay. You will look at me and I will know that that is all you see. Me.

I can see this, and I want it, I want to be good enough for that moment, for those moments, but I...

I don't know.