Your voice washes over me like a gentle summer rain
That tickles and teases first before falling in sudden cloudbursts
And still, I can’t get enough of you
I want to know what makes you tick
Climb inside your head and watch the world as you see it
I want to play you over and over like one of your songs
And make sense of why I’m so drawn to a man dressed in suits
I listen to Flame Turns Blue 50 times a day
And then alternate between Fugitive and Nemesis 50 more
And still, it’s not enough for me
I feel you flicking at my scabs and scars with measured precision
As you strum your guitar
Your fingers, the ones I know so well by now, glide over the ebony and ivory
In a passionate fury that can only and always be yours
Every word you’ve ever written feels like it has crept
Out of the unlit corners of my mind
I want to know how you sleep at night
Do you tuck one arm underneath your head like I do?
Or sleep on your side with your knees bent?
Do you lie flat on your back and snore?
Or move around in circles, knocking your wife out of bed?
Do you curl up into a cocoon when it’s cold?
Or must you leave your feet uncovered just like me?
Perhaps you don’t sleep much and stay up
Picking away at a painful past trying to turn it into a song
I want to know what makes you smile and how you drink your whisky
Do you like your steak medium rare and do you eat it with your eyes shut?
And are you as excited as I am when desserts are flambéed at the table?
I want to know if you check everything three times before you leave the house
And if you can control the urge to touch objects that are out of symmetry
Do you organize the currency notes in your wallet or are you messy?
Do you wear your happiness on your sleeve?
Or carefully cradle it in the crook of your arm?
Do you ever cry and if you do,
Who is it that your tears seek?
But most of all, I want to know if you’ve ever ached
For someone or something that never existed