In other people's’ writing, I see you.
I see you
with messy hair
glasses dirty
carefree on the outside
always smiling
careful on the inside
always guarded
waiting for something.
I don’t know what,
but it’s big.

In other people's’ writing, I see me.
I see me
with smudged eyeliner
hair tied back
strong opinions
on the outside
stronger opinions
on the inside
waiting for something.
I know exactly what.
It’s you.

In other people's’ writing, I see us.
I see us
slow dancing
star gazing
gasps of pain
far too often
gasps of pleasure
not often enough
waiting for nothing
because everything we need
is right here.