It tastes better than it did before.
This time it’s sweet and smooth and it melts and I don’t want the taste to leave my mouth. Like sickly sweet strawberry ribena that stains your teeth.
Before, I think we both thought it would taste different, but maybe we shouldn’t have sunk our teeth in too soon.
Because now, its just right.
What it feels like to be loved by you. To love you. To love myself because you are loving me.
I want to lie in your bed in the dark and watch your silhouette and that occasional orange glow that travels from your hand to mouth. I want to cry at films you didn’t expect me too and laugh at the ones you thought I would weep at. I want to fight over what you didn’t say when you were drunk. I want to hide my face in your jacket and put my hand in your pocket when it’s cold outside and we are walking home cause you spent your money on cigarettes.
I live for those three words that slip out of your mouth when you know I need to hear them. I want to somehow communicate how beautiful you are and hope that you could one day realise what I feel like when you walk in a room. I want to paint my face and lace my body and twirl and swirl and act like a girl. I want to lie so close to you that your eyes are blurred in my vision but I know you are watching me too. I want to sit on the floor at 3am holding each other and saying sorry. I haven’t stopped writing about you for two years but now it feels like I don’t need to. Because instead of writing about all the things I wanted, you gave them to me. Now, when we are in a room I know I am yours.
Thank you for giving that to me. Only if it’s for a bit. Whether it lasts forever or till tomorrow,
I stopped having to imagine it.
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