"and nobody in the wee-hours world has realized it yet but you."

You're dangerous.  You're a good boy with the rebellious side that tells me you're all wrong for me.

Try convincing your mind that someone's wrong for you when your skin feels like millions of tiny mouths, hungering for their taste.  Millions of eyes, wanting to memorize every freckle.  When you feel hypersensitized to everything and food has no taste and colors have no lustre, because everything that is you is craving to know him.

When a look is everything.  A touch.  A glance.  A brushing of skin against skin and the private and excruciating feeling that is his hands on your shoulders.

When the rain falling makes you think of his pulse and the wind in the trees makes you think of her hair falling over her face.  It's listening to a song a hundred times in a row and each word, each beat, every cadence of voice and bass reminds you of your bodies in the dawn.  Your whispers in her ear as she holds you and the stars leave the sky to fill the darkness of an empty bed.

The tangled sheets.  The madness in her lips.  The longing in his eyes.

The need.  The desire.  The lust.  The potential.  Was a ghost before I met you.  I've always known you.

I can feel your heartbeat.