The Revision

I want to be closer to you than anyone else ever has been before.

I want to sense the warmth of a rising smile against the surface of my own skin.

I want to hold the answer to the only question that has been pounding in the back of your mind, like someone constantly knocking on the entry way to your knowledge.

I want to feel compounded elements breaking apart. I want to feel our two solid bodies melt to form liquid love.

I want to see the path that your eyes take to trace the structures that form buildings.

I want to know if you hold your steering wheel at nine and three, or ten and two.

I want to remember how I felt five minutes before meeting you, and I need to know what shifted inside of me five seconds after.

I want to be able to tell which ray of sunlight gave you the freckle on your left hand.

I want to experience what your voice sounds like in your own head.

I want to differentiate what makes you blush quicker; compliments, or rejections?

I want to master the canvas full of colors your eyes see when they're closed.

Mind games do nothing but shatter the paper thin foundation we are built upon, and solving your puzzle might bring us stumbling down.

So leave the walls unpainted, unlock the doors, forget to close the windows, keep the water running.

May your impossible become my probable. And may your puzzle be solved by someone with steadier hands than mine.