The Kind of Love I Long For

You have green eyes. Not the kind of green that the grass is, though. It's the green that tints the clouds when a storm is on its way. More a feeling than a color, I guess.

You have this one freckle that's right under your right eye. Right where your lower eyelashes begin. It's magnified like the stars through a telescope when your eyes water, for whatever reason- happy or sad.

There's a tiny scar on your forehead from the time you were jumping on the bed and slipped, hitting your head on the bedside table. You can only see it once you point it out and tell the story.

You bite your lip a lot. Like when you're thinking really hard about something that happened awhile back. Or when you're nervous about something that may or may not happen. You complain about the taste of blood in your mouth, and you ask me for gum.

You're different when it rains. More alive. In a crowd of morose people waiting for the sun, you're the one dancing and singing like wild. You beg the clouds to stay forever.