You remind me of odd numbers

You remind me of odd numbers, orange peels,
and scratching off goosebumps to pretend they
aren't there.  as i kiss your skin, i am glad that
my bitter taste indicators are at the back of my
mouth, for all i can taste is sweet, sweet, sweet.

every sentence i deliver is carefully chosen from
a squad of contestants.  every word is a note in
a hymn composed especially for you.  if i said
all of the things that i wanted to say, the strings
in my harp would snap from the stress.

under bright lights we have so many shadows that
i lose sight of the glow in you.  but i still see a
faint glimmer in your eyes--like the sunlight on a
puddle of rainwater, during the calm between two
storms.  my greatest fear is to look away.

i have been trapped for so long in the eye of the
murky grey of your thunder gaze.  if i shift my
eyes to look somewhere else, will i be taken
away by some other tempest?  i prefer no other
force than the savage winds of your love.

some say a hurricane can take away everything
you own, can leave you breathless.  i should have
turned around long ago, for i felt the first breeze
as soon as i stepped out of my gentle world and
was taken by storm into yours.