Your you

It is everytime when you walk, down the stairs. I saw that, not with my eyes. But I know it was you coming.

The way you touch your hair. It was like you worry about something. You always worry. Or was it you nervous? Well I hope you were when I was around.

And the way you stop, or move slowly, or that thing you do with your smirk. And stop there. Like you were counting everyone’s breath, or mine.

That collected pose, you hold it, or was it purposeful?

Well, I purposely let you enjoy the view, of me enjoying the afternoon breeze flowing through my hair, and lingering onto the skin at the back of my head. Thrilled, I held my breath. Wishing I could do something to tell you, I know.

I know that you know. We had it since the day one.

But you know that I know, that…we just love to play.