Don't listen to your smoky minded condemnation-
The musings that come between the hours of midnight and four
And make you question the beauty of your mere existence,
The depth of your kindness,
The intricacies of each dip and line of your body.

They don't know you like
I know you.

They don't know that serendipitous is the word
I'd use to describe our first meeting. They don't know that
The first time your hands tangled themselves around my hair
I knew that I wanted them stuck there forever

Or that a feather touch against my hips
And the mutual entanglement of our eyelashes
Causes the pleasant humming in my brain
That lulls me into dreams.

They don't know that we were inevitable.

I've fallen in love before-
With many friends and a slew
On unattainable conquests
Who never really saw the girl who penned her thoughts-
But never an artist.

They don't know that your words ring like symphonies
And hang delicately in the atmosphere,
Waiting for a worthy audience.

And that when you sing
I cannot help but cry.

Do they know that I flourish under your touch?
That my I wear my tattoo with pride
Because, secretly, it is for you?

Because I can tell you
They don't know you
Like I know you