There's an empty stretch of highway in front of us,
No other cars around.
We are quiet.
I hear each breath you take, whooshing through your beautiful lungs, slow and measured
Your hand grips mine.
I lean back and close my eyes, letting vague lights flicker past my translucent lids
And concentrate on the sensation of our skin pressed together
Our cells are communicating, setting my nerves on fire
And even though my hands are warmer than yours, you seem so alive while I am the statue watching you.
Your hands are always colder when you're driving.
I do my best to warm them.
Your lips are stained red from the cherry slushies we had
I can't tell if mine are, but I hope we match.
I look at you.
You're watching the road, watching the asphalt whiz by beneath you as your other hand gently guides the wheel
Even your profile seems complete to me.
I can see your eyes flickering, so deep they seem to defy my hopes of ever being able to look away from them.
And your nose, I love your nose.
I love it because it's something I can help you learn to love, too.
And of course I love those lips. They probably still taste like cherry.
I love the way our breaths and steps and hearts synchronize when we're together
I love the way you tell me you love me just through the touch of your hand.
I am still lost in your eyes when the car hits us.
Your hand squeezes mine tightly, sending a more urgent I Love You.
I am still lost in your eyes when they go glassy.
Your hands have gone so cold.
I cannot warm them.
I don't know where to look.
I close my eyes.