Neither our faces or lives are smooth or straight
The vesicles inside, sometimes standing and then moving through the surface
The blood cells striking, pushing beneath
They whooping: we want to come to you
The lines getting down from your mouth
The messenger of your smile
I hope you will start with a giggle
Maybe laughter later
Each step towards having the joy of you at all
It is the anticipation of the adore and of being the part of it
I should guess what you eat and drink
All the flair I have, should I put forward
And spent within a day that bringing you to me
I will say a thing eventually
I did not experience a thing, something like you
