Always waiting for that tiny little smile to turn up the corners of your mouth, make you crinkle like paper once flat, now new. Your silences fill my mouth with sweet stones I crush between my teeth, tastes so feathery, the branches I climb when I reach up to the sky to feel the faces of the clouds looking down at me, so sweet. The breath of summer fills my eyes with air and light and it holds us together, hands clasped, blind. All the pages that I write could add up to hundreds of little rhymes, they fill my time with frames of mind and feelings held close to a heart or two, but they don't hold on to you. There are only numbers to chase after you, clinging feebly to those memories caught like fireflies in sparkling jars that dance between my dreams, all clambering and green as grass. And why? you ask, it's something that climbs crazily up my spine, that pulls my face into that lovely shape. It's you, it's you, words slide off like water and pool, and nothing sticks. We're oblivious. We're a blur, millions of fast colors drawn up into some shiny, swimming handful of adjectives.