to she who is next

I see you

in my intuitive eye.

I know the hem

of the skirt. I know

it's feel

better than I know

the feel

.

of my own

skin.

.

The breadth of a thousand

evenings worn.

The breadth of a thousand

nights colliding.

.

Rusling the legs

of fortunate passers-by,

bathed in starlight.

.

Kissed by the embrace

of benches, picnic tables,

baptised in droplets

of cider.

.

The hue belongs

only to you.

.

I know this garment,

better then it’s maker.

I know it so well.

.

Almost as well

as the one

who wears it.

.

Your eyes though.

Glassy,

.

with a charm,

a clarity,

a hint

of something else.

.

A mystery

never revealed.

.

Ah but your heart.

I drown in its depth.

.

I swim so deep,

some worry I may never

return. But I know,

.

there is truth

at the very

bottom

.

of it’s crystalline structure,

If it can be found.

.

I could lose myself

In this. But I dive in anyway.

.

I see things

at the most infinite

points.

.

Thoughts deeper

then the deepest ocean.

.

Emotions more nuanced

then a thousand geometric

angles.

.

A dimensional self

So complex no physics

book

.

can speak its truth.

.

an intimacy

served raw.

.

I know you,

yet we have not met.

.

I see you just the same.

I feel you just as well.

.

You are not the one.

You are this one.

Infinitely more important,

.

but just as rare.