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It’s not in the way we kissed
sticky-sweet like honey
warm and thick in the back of my throat
or the way we laughed
when you licked that ice cream from my fingertips
as if we’d known each other years,
and not just a few short months.
It’s not in the way your eyes traveled over me
like I was a map, an uncharted highway
and you were a car with a full tank of gas
and all day to drive.
It’s not in the way you pulled me into your life
with a dizziness, and I spinning, spinning
no choice but to throw my head back
and hold on.
It’s simply in the way that you knew me
before I decided whether or not I wanted to be known.