I can’t believe I didn’t write you yet,
I’ve been thinking too much of you for it.
What you said yesterday hasn’t yet set,
it sloshes in my heart and cannot sit.
Did I say write you? I meant write of you…
You’ve ruined all my words now, do you see?
But I could write you.. I will do that, too,
as soon as I know what you did to me.
You looked—I can recall at least that much—
and didn’t stray from me, nor I from you;
and we both smiled at our gazes’ touch,
and my dreams now will keep it in review.
For I now know you liked to look at me…
I know what I saw, but what did you see?