I am in awe with the everyday you.
Your fascination with dandelions, and desire to plant them and grow them in flower boxes and cook with them and turn them into tea and wine and make wishes from their seeds.
The way you stand in your living room after a hard day with your shipwrecked mind scattered all over space and time, giddy and tired and aggravated, unsure whether to laugh or to cry.
The way you get caught up in the smallest bits of me in your spare time: teeth on ears, fingers on toes, breath on breath, tangled up in my hair.
Your desperation to find meaning in your life and your total incompetence to recognize you have already won this battle.
Your eyes, which refuse to stay the same color, but shift around perplexingly like mood rings, reflections not of the weather or the time of day but of your stormy and ever changing passions.
The way you shudder when you are cold, when you are falling asleep, when you are yawning, when you are sobbing in my arms for absolutely no reason, other than that life is a strange and beautiful thing and that there is no way we will ever come to understand it.
Your overwhelmed, irritated, adventurous, stuck, soulful, lost, infuriating, poetic, brilliant, extraordinary ordinary magnificent everyday you.