I can't stop picturing your hand on my thigh during that meeting and how wrong it felt so right.

I want to press a crumb of cake between your fingers and lick it off when you protest.

I keep turning the hint you gave about the balcony into plans for after midnight.

I want to trace the seam of your jeans and see if you'll shiver.

I keep imagining tugging your scarf off in the rain and getting soaked on purpose.

Leave the light on upstairs and I'll find reasons to climb the stairs slowly.

Thinking of your laugh under your breath makes me want to make you laugh louder with my mouth on your neck.

I want to press my palm flat against your back and feel you lean into me.

If you tell me which door you'll use tonight I'll time my knock to be inconveniently close.

I keep thinking about the way you bite your lip when you're concentrating and wanting to test if you do it when I'm near.

Every coffee I make tastes like the idea of your mouth on mine.

I want to catch your hand in a crowded room and pull you into a quiet corner.

I imagined taking your mask off in the kitchen and kissing you until we burned the toast.

Your perfume on the pillow is unfair; I'm considering stealing it and never giving it back.

I want to leave a note on your mirror that says two words and watch you read it when you wake.

Send me the song you listened to this morning so I can make a playlist that ends with us.

I keep replaying you bending to tie your shoe and how the light hit the curve of your neck.

I want to unzip your jacket slowly and look up to see if you're trying not to smile.

Tell me a time you'll be late tonight so I can plan how to meet you in the stairwell.

I keep imagining your fingers fumbling with my buttons and smiling at how slow you are.

The thought of your socks on my floor is more tantalizing than it should be.

I want to press our foreheads together and promise nothing except to keep kissing.

When you send a voice note I play it twice because hearing you say my name makes me want to climb over the sofa.

I keep turning the idea of you pushing me against the hallway wall into a whole afternoon plan.

I like the bruise from your backpack strap on your shoulder—it's an invitation.

I want to whisper something in your ear that will make you drop your fork.

Sitting at my desk I keep thinking of the scrape your necklace made on my palm.

Promise me you'll answer the door in socks and nothing else and I'll be there in five.

I keep imagining tracing the freckle just below your collarbone with my thumb.

The smell of your shampoo is a small crime; I want to bury my face in your hair again.

I want to taste the salt from when you sweat after your run and then kiss it off.

If you send one photo of you checking your reflection I'll save it and stare at it all night.

Tell me you'll wear the blue shirt tomorrow; I plan on unbuttoning the top two buttons with my eyes.

I woke up with the memory of your sweater over my shoulders and it's making me count the hours.

Every time my phone buzzes I hope it's you saying you'll come home early.

I want to stand behind you while you read and press my face into the back of your neck.

Your ankle chain flashed under the table yesterday and I haven't stopped thinking about catching it between my fingers.

I keep picturing your laugh in the kitchen and wanting to pull you close before you finish the sentence.

That lipstick stain on your coffee mug is distracting me and I keep imagining it's on my shirt.

You took the call so I could finish dinner and I appreciated it.