You.

You.
Your closed off composure.
Your desperate, hoping glance.
Your intoxicating fear.
The whisper of your hair.

You.
Your trembling hands.
Your delicate neck.
The liberation of your voice.
Your soft, blue eyes.
And your lips.

You.
Your hyperactive hands.
The hood of your headphones.
The duck of your head.
The quiver of your lips.

You.
Your naive aura.
Your isolated existence.
Your explosive grin.
The grind of your teeth.

You.
I would destroy you.
If you were whole.