You know,

We grew. We grew together; almost in a mutilating way. We grew almost as though we molded together. Our lives fit, you know? In that way that only the movies can describe, only visual and audio reenactment that has been played out many, many times; making it just perfect. Just right; just the right amount of lighting to show that glow on your skin, the light still beaming out of your eyelids while they steadily move about as you sleep, how stunningly white and pearly each tooth in your smile shinned. Just the right lens to display your dainty like, feminine proportioned body so vivid and perky, so curvy and smooth; to show the goose bumps appear on your skin while I graze my fingers over the tips of your nails and grab your pointer finger loosely in my grip, placing them on my collar; you know, the goose bumps that appear on your skin that has your hair raised bright and ready for the day, as you feel the bones beneath my shirt with the palm of your hand. Just that angle to show the way your shoulder bones relax as I massage your neck and back; That zoom, the one that shows you pulling me closer to your lips to let the smoke that fill your lungs seep into my mouth, and into me, and out, only showing the passion of a kiss, but, not a kiss itself; That motion you do; the one where you bite your lip, with your grin now locked in a crescent shaped smile, that always gleamed brighter than the moon itself, it seemed when you’d run your fingers across my chin, and then you’d pull me close and kiss my cheek. You know those movies. The kinds that girls mourn over and wish their love lives were like; the ones that take hours and hours to explain a single relationship between two humans that is too complex to explain within a smaller time frame; the ones that make life seem the way it’s supposed to be. That’s how I feel for you.

 I remember stroking your hair back from your eyes that always seemed to try and disguise your high cheek bones from being so dramatic; a trait I’ve found I love in the female bone structure. I’d curl my fingers; wrapping them around strands of your hair and playing with each one specifically, adding in a new movement every time, desperately trying hard to keep my gentle, cool-calm-and-collected mask atop my obvious eager-filled face. Oh how badly I want to see your hips sway back and forth, while I rest my hands upon them, with yours hanging from my shoulders; like that necklace I gave you, that you wear so often, while they swing to the blaring music that your echo’s dimmed with old true passion and curiosity. The memory of your wide brightly shaded dark eyes filling the air with whole hazelnut creamer with a dash of cinnamon, looking straight into my brown eyes; you sing to me “I’ll never let you go.” Oh, how true of a statement, my love. But baby, how I remember my body on top of yours those first two weeks we spent; almost all in my bed; my body leaning over yours; that time, when you pulled the collar of my shirt down after playing with it for a while as we kissed, you said to me “I can see down your shirt.” so innocent and playfully. I don’t know if you remember that, sunshine; but, those six words, they gave me those goose bumps. Although, it really isn’t anything new, those goose bumps; they seem new every time I talk to you though, (I get them every time, still.). They’ll never fade away. Neither will those movie memories, or our story plot.
 
I see you look at me, and I feel you. I see you.  It’s almost like my other half is missing sometimes, but, shows up mostly just to talk; when she’s awake, that is. You hold the innocence of a child, who’s just learned their first swear word. It’s a secret they share with only few, in fear of society deeming them “brought up wrong”. You’re the only one I can share some of my secrets with. Parts of you are my secrets, too. The ones that I can’t tell a soul, only yours; I couldn’t find any other soul worthy of these secrets I bare, anyway. You know, nothing except you has ever seemed quite right. Thank you for saving me, you know, I was dying to see.

The innocent stare you hold captivating my lonesome melancholy blues. Oh my love, you've gotten my mind running wild. Running wild with the morning sun you hold within your head, rising steadily above me, transmitting your heat waves inside of me. You are the pollen from the dandelions residing through out the grass, with each breeze you float in the atmosphere; and I breathe you in. You are the echo's of a melody induced and the light that engulfs between the steamy blues' notes you sing, bathing in our claw foot bathtub. You are the only one for me;

Will you let me call you my baby?

"Yes" she spoke.