When I Say That Something

i want to hold your hand in the coldest parts of january
when the wind chills our faces as we stare at the sea
and when i pretend to look
at waves tickling the toes of small children
i'll really be looking at you.
but i won't really see you;
i'll see all of my dreams
written on your sweet face.
words hidden in cursive in the curls of your hair
as the breeze combs them back.
and when you look back at my eyes you ask me;
"what are you thinking about?"
and i'll reply with a half-smile and say
"nothing."
and you'll shove my shoulder
and call me an "ass.";
but, laughing,
i'll just pull you close
sharing with you
all the warmth my embrace can provide,
and when i kiss you on the nose
you giggle at the touch.
holding you
i'll look around at all of the other eyes upon us,
the old couples holding hands,
the middle aged ones chasing after their children,
all of them jealous
of our young bandit love;
and all of this is why i thought i ought to let you know
about how much i want to hold your hand.