No Sensory and the Conditions Of.

The problem is, that I can't be close to you.
Our bubbles are too big; we just don't
have a hugging relationship.
      And I don't know what you smell like.
If it's floral or a sweet fruit,
a sophisticated posh, or a spice
that matches your sass.
I don't know how soft your skin is or the smell
underneath whatever you're wearing.
Or if, when I wrap my long arms
around your small frame,
my finger tips can reach my own side.
I only know what you sound like.
There's the smile in your “Hey”,
and the concern that works it's way
so easily into your tone,
probably over something ridiculous.
Not to forget
the audible lack of confidence
as you learn to harmonize,
and the sillyness when you try and sing
like Fiona Apple,
or the excitement that drips from every word
when you talk about Calvin.