You are tangled bedsheets and sleepless nights
Whether I’m with you or not
You are long conversations after too much beer
And silent mornings-after when I never know what to say
You are unchartered depths, and I want to paint the map of you
You are potential and hope and risk and lust
You are every last one of those butterflies in my stomach
The only book I want to read right now
and I want to read every page
Over and over and over
Until the paper is soft beneath my fingertips
Savour every word and write notes in the margins
Add my own scribbled chapters, so the story of you is the story of us
At least for a while

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