(old things scribbled in strange places.)
“Kiss me like you mean it” and I laughed right in your face, my nose to your nose, your breath and mine (blending together to) make(ing) ours. You have broad shoulders and wide hands and you unbraided my hair absentmindedly while you held me on the back porch. Sometimes I feel half-embarrassed, but never really ashamed and we laughed a lot and you laid next to me in the grass and asked me to hold your hand. I made you chase me and you did, and who doesn’t want to be chased, even if you never admit that out loud?
And it felt like that’s all there was that night between your stifled laughter and my ripped tights. It felt like how we look at cities for the first time, wide eyed and scared, walking the empty streets by yourself with some strange satisfaction pulling your limbs onward.
(Source: abcdefghijenna)
