reciprocity

It wouldn't crush me flat 
to find I pester you as much
as you
do pester me
so welcomely. In gentle 
suffocating crush. But 
it's a lie I'm pestered, 
here. Or now, or any 
where or when that you
come in to do just that. 

It doesn't wear, nor break 
nor even bend the way you 
bend my ear, inpouring all 
these spark-bright thoughts, 
which I return forged into 
stars. The difference should, 
but shouldn't ought. 

Confess! Confess I pester 
you! How can we know the line
too far? When merrily we romp 
in play so right across 
just each and every line 
that sense or reason limn, 
or would - if we weren't just 
the way we are?