you are 21, with sweaty palms and you are in love for the first time. he had the brownest of eyes and a smile that was crooked to one side. how you loved, how you loved that smile. his words left fireworks blazing in your circulatory system and his touch left strawberry stains on your skin. you've always remembered him as the boy you passed by in school that you wanted but told yourself you couldn't have. and all of a sudden, here he was, asking you to love him. you couldn't explain why you did, but maybe it was the way he could just sit and look at you all day, or maybe it was his laugh that gave the butterflies in your stomach butterflies of their own. maybe it was the way he made you feel alright for the first time in a long time. like there weren't parts missing in your being anymore. you didn't know what it was, but you loved him, and you loved him with everything you had. sometimes you forgot if you were awake or dreaming. the lines between your reality and subconscious become a wonderful blur of sweet nothings, inside jokes and collarbone kisses.
this is better than any drug, you thought, this - him - is all i need. when he held you at night with nothing else but velvet sheets between your bodies, you slept better than any night you've ever slept. when he wasn't there, you found yourself counting the number of sleeps until you could dream with your head resting in the nook of his chest. he'd always said you fit perfectly next to him. that was your spot, one that you claimed with a drool stain. you secretly loved the way he smiled and said, "it's okay, baby," when you asked him if you snored last night. it was these things that you could laugh about, your drunken nights and unconventional pet peeves and turn-ons. he was always prepared to take care of you when you hurt yourself. when you went cliff-jumping and scraped your knee on a rock, he carried you and held you as you cried while they applied antiseptic on your wounds. when your mother's words stung like a thousand bees, he soothed the pain with honeyed words of his own. whenever you tripped on the uneven surface of the sidewalk, he'd purposely trip over nothing so you wouldn't look silly alone. he would be a step behind if you knew the way, or a step ahead if he wanted to get lost together. he knew everything about you. your favourite disney princess, how you took your coffee, your cigarettes, and which side of the bed you wanted to sleep on every time you checked into a new hotel for the weekend. it was the kind of love that made everybody else disappear when you were with each other. being apart made you feel ill. he whispered words to you that made you feel like maybe he was magic. and magic he was, for he made flowers grow in the parts you hated most about yourself.
happy 9th, a. what beautiful times we've had.
you're going to sleep now, and you won't wake up, but it's all still real - right?
this is better than any drug, you thought, this - him - is all i need. when he held you at night with nothing else but velvet sheets between your bodies, you slept better than any night you've ever slept. when he wasn't there, you found yourself counting the number of sleeps until you could dream with your head resting in the nook of his chest. he'd always said you fit perfectly next to him. that was your spot, one that you claimed with a drool stain. you secretly loved the way he smiled and said, "it's okay, baby," when you asked him if you snored last night. it was these things that you could laugh about, your drunken nights and unconventional pet peeves and turn-ons. he was always prepared to take care of you when you hurt yourself. when you went cliff-jumping and scraped your knee on a rock, he carried you and held you as you cried while they applied antiseptic on your wounds. when your mother's words stung like a thousand bees, he soothed the pain with honeyed words of his own. whenever you tripped on the uneven surface of the sidewalk, he'd purposely trip over nothing so you wouldn't look silly alone. he would be a step behind if you knew the way, or a step ahead if he wanted to get lost together. he knew everything about you. your favourite disney princess, how you took your coffee, your cigarettes, and which side of the bed you wanted to sleep on every time you checked into a new hotel for the weekend. it was the kind of love that made everybody else disappear when you were with each other. being apart made you feel ill. he whispered words to you that made you feel like maybe he was magic. and magic he was, for he made flowers grow in the parts you hated most about yourself.
happy 9th, a. what beautiful times we've had.
you're going to sleep now, and you won't wake up, but it's all still real - right?
