All the Things

Would you still like me if

I told you that citrus smells

Describe moods better than words?

Or that I believe I am held

Captive by future nostalgia?

Would you still like me if

You knew that most of my fantasies

Involve priests or confessionals?

Is it a deal-breaker that

I think hot and cold are a state

Of mind?

Does it bother you that my

Moral compass doesn't swing,

It undulates longingly while staring

At a metronome?

Would you still want to share

The same air with me if you knew

That I was designed specifically

To like you?

Warranted or not?

Would a list of thousands of insecurities

Keep you at bay?

Would you find it annoying

That I would call you pet names so often

I would forget your real name on

A daily basis?

Do you find rosemary a

Repellent ingredient?

Do you ever breathe too deeply

At the gas station...and like it?

Do you touch unpleasant things

Just to say, "Ewww." out loud?

Does the endless barrage of questions

Speak the volumes of the gush

I feel for you?

Or is it tiresome?

I touch my thumb to every fingertip

When I am having anxiety

Sometimes thinking of

My thumb giving "quiet down" kisses

On their finger foreheads

Because in my reality

Everything has a forehead

Would you think less of me

Because I like to add "s" to things

Because plurals are more appealing

For my mouth to speak?

Would it be too much to take

Knowing that the sound of your laugh

Is something I can hear at will without

You even being here?

Is the pressure too much

To bear knowing that my inability

To "be cool" is the direct result of

Knowing that I think you saw my soul?

Did you know that when I ask you

How you feel about things

It's really just me

Asking to see if you're real?