we sit by the water and say nothing to each other. usually, I only enjoy silence when I'm alone. but there is so much about you to admire that I'm grateful for a moment of quiet.
I feel as though you know me without ever having proven that you do. maybe that's simply what my mind wants to believe.
you're thinking, watching the water, and like the fishermen by the sea, I try to catch your thoughts. but in your silence there is nothing to find. nothing except my imagination, and the things I think I know about you now.
does depth exist only in the way that I know it? or am I the one who sees the world too narrowly?
I look at you long enough, hoping you'll kiss me. I look at you, and wait.
by this point, you must have counted every one of my birthmarks, and know which freckles mirror each other on my left and right cheeks. maybe you know which eyebrow sits higher, and which corner of my mouth moves more when I smile. the roots of my hair asking to be dyed again, the color of my lips, the color of my eyes.
you've studied so much of me before finally moving closer. so much that when you kiss me, it feels as though you've known me for a very long time.