Ideological love,
conceptual from the start,
inhibitions slowly change the demeanor.
You remind me so.
In your little stories.
In your nuanced ways.
Somehow, I find myself depraved compared to you.
Even with your adventures of troubadour thievery,
At least, that’s the the way it feels to me.
How you describe them.
How you describe yourself and I are two totally different comparisons.
Yet your analysis confines me, just for a moment as I lose my breath.
Forgetting to inhale as I took my sneaky look at you.
Observing every little detail, as if I’m underwater and this is all the time I have.
I inhale, I look away.
Fluttery on my feet, not like butterflies in my stomach.
Comfortable ease, with you.
petrichor - archive 