I want to add up the numbers,
the countless ways we make sense.
Starting with how you’re the only one for me,
how when we lay, we’re more than two bodies occupying space.
I think of how I want you in threes repeatedly,
morning, noon and night,
repeatedly.
Longing to be bound to you for forever,
because I cherish the five seconds you use to profess your love at your own initiative.
My six senses belong to you;
my eyes claim blindness on days where they do not meet yours.
I smell you on my soul after we touch
and I taste your name on my tongue every time the heavens hear my praise for you.
So seven days of the week are devoted to loving you because I hate the thought of a life without you.
I wish to give you nine lives from nine different life times, where we can tentatively be in love,
where we can we be blissful and ignorant to hurt.