I am compiled habit, synapses, unintentional rehearsal.
A failure with a calendar, with bulleted lists, a maniac with the pen.
But I am plastic, and I am portable.
I can wish for the same things as you, if you can tangle our legs,
laughing at something I didn't mean to say.
Ask for nothing but my honesty and I will give you everything on both sides.
Make me laugh sober, question me when I pretend anything is certain,
lie naked until both our skin and our souls feel each other.
Enter my sleep, have me enter yours.
Use only words when they're new to you,
rub your thumb on my bare shoulder in the morning, as I sleep, and you think.
Learn my smell and the language of my eyes,
and how I need to sleep on the inside.
Ask questions because you want to know;
not because you want to converse.
Tell me, by your unpreparedness, that this has never happened before.