I love the shape wet glasses make on paper, and I love the sound of old world warbling from the windows of women I've never met. I love your furrowed brow and I love pretending you don't exist, even when you're the whole point of me.
You are the source of all my anger and the source of all my hope. You're my breath, my threat; you are the reason for risk and you'll be my reward.
If I was hollow before, you have filled me. I've I was dying before, you have killed me. I will live for you, and I'll suffer with you, and if you'll lend me all you have, I will guard it like it's my own.
You needn't ask me not to leave, because I've been yours since before we met.