#(that's three)

Oh but now you’re back to normal!

I was not aware the diva could mean pretty. My apologies for misunderstanding.

  I imagine you smell warm like cigarettes and sun on dark surfaces. I imagine the leatheriness of your skin when you're tired and the clean way your eyes are when you're awake and distracted. I imagine the sound of the razor against your face when you shave, at night or in the morning, and my racy monologue of tactilics on you.. I like the way I imagine you vulnerable when you aren't -- and cautious when you're not. In the beginning of the day, I imagine the feeling of your hands like a tide (I've called it that so many times) [still] that I close my eyes to and reenvision and hum, without knowing, in the rhythm of your tapping. I imagine you quiet and wholly separate and imposing. I feel the necessity of you like a small fire in the dips of my palms. I taste the sweat of yours, and grass and heat. I imagine you in love when you may not be. I like the idea of choices and un-choices, and a building momentum and fluency.. I imagine us laughing and the overwhelming closeness of my breathing against the middle of your chest - it comes back into me from the space we left or may not leave when we see each other next. I feel our shadows on the ground as an oddity.. I imagine the different qualities of light and life on you. I wonder how different it is from mine?

Happy Valentine’s Day.