There's something about you that

fills me with care and desire.

I want to rest your head against

my chest, and my head against yours.

The way you put up your hair

does something to me,

even afterward, all day when

I see you. It is another surface

and you are another depth

waiting with your concerns

and stresses and impatiences

and the dust and scratches

that I want to brush from your mind

and your heart.

I want to run my fingers down

from your crown along

your spine and count

the bumps, you know,

just to make sure how many you have. What

number do I want to find?

I would love any number about you

if it's true.

I am not hopeless and neither are you

and I can't stop hoping for you.