unheard melodies

I get butterflies just from staring at you. I wake up excited to make coffee because you say mine is "really good" and tell me how much you like it, why wouldn’t I? And I make waffles, because it’s Sunday and you love Sunday waffles. Yesterday you made me dinner, cooked me lasagna. For no reason, too, I was so confused. You say I’m your favorite woman and you play me, with your guitar, melodies unheard. Sometimes I feel like I’m suffocating, my exhale cracking the crystal; I stay still because I get petrified my dream will shatter. When I rub my eyes, I feel you drawing shapes on my back. You asked me once if you could wash my hair, I think I blacked out then. No one really expected it from us, on paper it doesn’t seem like it'd compute, but here we are. You came home early from work and class, and a party on multiple occasions. When you say you’d rather be with me I blush so hard I can feel the blood rush beneath my skin. When I have your hair in my fingertips, twirling and twiddling and tickling all around, I feel at ease. When you fall asleep on my chest, with your warm breath spanning my chest, I can sleep again.