I want your fingertips. Your nouns and your verbs. Your twitching eyelid when you're tired. I want your laugh, your righteous anger when someone's been done wrong, the snort that follows your suppressed giggle. I want your eyes when they see a lie, your mouth when it refuses to mention it. I want your profile when we're driving in the car and you're concentrating on the road ahead. I want your secrets and your fears, your 3am worries, your happy breakfasts. I want the crease between your eyebrows, your wrinkled knuckles, your opinions you hold passionately despite my best efforts to change them. I want your smile when you see me in that red dress. I want you, in that perfectly tailored suit. I want your insecurities, your dreams, your best laid plans that blow up in your face. I want you to take this corner of my heart and make a home in it.
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