Attention

I love how much attention you give me. I love how you weave showing it into our conversations, a little mention here… a little reference there… the level of detail that you notice.

That that level of attention is coming from you, of all people…

sigh

Returning the favor is something I need to get better at… one of so many things. But I suspect you can sense my interest. Even when I'm being a dumb boy and forgetting to ask you questions, you manage to teach me little things about yourself. Like one of your top picks for where to get pizza. And one particular combination of toppings not to get for you…

Though I still don't know what toppings you would want. Hopefully you'll teach me that, too, someday. Soon.

Along with everything else. Everything. Everything about you that there is to know… From who your favorite author is, to how your hip feels under my hand. From where you'd most like to visit someday, to the exact patterns of your irises. From your morning routine, to what your lips taste like. How your day went, every day, to how your hand would feel resting on my shoulder. What shows you watch (you know, aside from that one obvious one…), to the face you'd make while I'm enjoying you…

Anything you can think of about yourself, any detail, anything at all.

I want to know it.

You have my attention and my interest, my love.

And it sure seems like I have yours.

And if things were different…

Well.

If things were different, you'd never be able to get rid of me.