I get lost in the sounds I hear in my mind, all of these voices.

Dearest dolly darling dot.
I like you an awful lot
As is evident by this shoddy poem
Something I don't intend on showin'.

You're wonderful. How could you ever like me? Oh, I love your hair, your smile with your open mouth. Your worrying. Thankyou thankyou thankyou. Beautiful clever you, and then me. I loved to call you mine. Just in my head, because it was strange and possessive aloud; "there she stands, on the wall, painted by Fra Pandolf... my last duchess, as I recall".

And you are so beauteous, beatific. You don't think so. And maybe I think you are beautiful because I like you so, but maybe I like you so because you are so beautiful, in every way. I slowly became aware of it; I think maybe at first I thought your face was pretty. Maybe not. But then I started to recognise its features in a crowd, because they seemed to stand out far more than everyone else's plain faces. Your eyes were bluer, pale blue like the inside of an eggshell, and your walk was different. The line of your mouth, the perfect downturn of a cat's mouth but with pretty english rosebud lips. The line of your nose. Everything just seemed to fall into place, and there you were. I miss your scent of faint sweat and perfume, the way your neck smelled. I miss the fidget. I miss fitting together with no jags. I miss you laying your hand on me, when I didn't expect it, the movement of it was like a fall of crushed velvet, starched and sure to me. And the giggle when I stroked your hair. I miss holding hands when we were lying together, just to connect as if we'd lose each other if we didn't. Little finger yours, little finger mine all the way to thumbs.

The first time you touched me. No, I touched you first. We were reading. And suddenly it felt right to put my hand on the top of your arm. And it was right, because you put yours on my thigh. Electric. It wasn't as if I hadn't felt it before, but it was unexpected. And we kept on reading, and slumped further down on the bed, and then you kissed the top of my head. And that was all it was, apart from a moment of awkwardness... what should happen? And we had our first kiss. And there were lots of unbelievable circumstances about it, but most unbelievable to me was that you could ever like me back. And I don't believe you did, now, looking back. Just pitied me. First attempt at seduction, you had to be receptive is all. Were you thinking, even then, "I'll give it two weeks". I'd rather not have had you close to me at all than for you to feel that about me; horrendous. But at the time.... wondrous.