Why am I writing this.

Meeting you for the first time
can be only compared too
a fourteen year old space cadet
taking ecstasy for the first time
in what I imagine micro gravity
to feel like; Physically touching
nothing but feeling and tasting
every molecule and atom lingering
in the air like dust particles.
Except I think the fourteen year
old might have better self control.
My shaking hands and rabid dancing
words pirouetting off my vocal cords
left you laughing as you said
"It's okay, i'll do all the talking."
while we ordered more shots.
You wouldn't remember this but I saw
the sun rise with you, well,
I saw the sun rise, with you on you,
as you were in the room sleeping. I'm not trying
to sound creepy but you were so content
and peaceful and we had a pretty long night
so I drew you and the picture turned out
really well despite my lack of pen control
and I stood there for two hours holding
my hand in front of the part in the curtains
so the sunlight wouldn't come in contact
with your closed eyelids and I only put down
my arm when you stirred and said
"What are you doing?"
without opening your eyes.
I pretended that I was smoking
a bong instead of saying
"giving myself permanent
muscle damage so you stay asleep."
because not only does that sound
horribly deviant but also terribly sadistic.
but you wouldn't have understood
that from the first night
of taking you home I was
ridiculously marina trench deep
in love with you.
But I don't know why i'm writing this
when we're just friends.