You. You're all I can think about in any given hour. Each moment hungry, impatient, longing. Each year, only for you. An obsession filling my waking hours and every dream too delightful to wake from. You. You've all my words and sentences and any letter I've thought to string together with another. Building something-- climbing, clawing, crawling. Any which-way, each way. My memoir is only filled with your pictures; my heart only full with your love. You. You're captivating. Your voice finds me in the dark, in the space between us where the sheets tangle. Whispers are catching, changing, clasping. You. You're nothing. You're nothing I could've hoped for. You're so much more. You're everything. You're my everything.