i want to kiss you and hug you and hold you and play with your hair and sleep with you and make you laugh and stare at you and play games with you and make you win on purpose and cuddle with you at night and eat breakfast with you and then eat lunch and dinner with you and i wanna listen to music with you and cry with you and watch dance videos with you and go to class with you and duel blog with you lmao i dont know i just want to do fucking everything with you
Love They Say - Tegan and Sara
Her Favorite Hug.
There’s that one type of hug that a girl loves. That tight hug where you put some strength into it, using your both arms, not just one. The one where a girl could bury her face in a guy’s chest, that makes her feel safe & secure, that makes her feel warm on the outside & inside, that makes her feel wanted, the one that lasts for awhile, and the one that would give her the impression that you care.
My flesh takes on other flesh and tries to see
what colors two bodies can make.
Blues and greens. Oranges. All the colors
of volcano rain.
When my mouth forgets how to language, I sentence
with my hands. I curve my body just so, knowing that
you’re staring at my neck, knowing so well how people love
to lose themselves in skin.
This morning I woke after dreaming of train tracks covered in
yellow flowers, looked at the man sleeping beside me, and left
my bed to count the ways that you can leave your soul through
There is a tenderness in closing your eyes and seeing
explosions, in the fact that we loved each other for so long without
touching, in the fact that there is such a thing as souls brushing
underneath the table instead of this: the night, josie’s bar,
your beautiful hand crawling too high up my thigh.
When I close my eyes I see light. When I open them,
I see men and women in their black coats, walking dreamily
and dreamlessly, closing their eyes through the traffic
and writing dirty poems on used napkins.
Drills press themselves into the flesh of concrete. Tires
pull at gravel. On windy days, even the buildings move their hips
and hope love will come of it; but
when I talk about our flesh, I don’t mean this flesh. I don’t mean
muscles or Château-Briand or you fucking me underneath the
blankets. I don’t mean bones. I don’t mean skin. I don’t
mean any of that new-aged bullshit.
All I want is to be held, softly, by your gaze. All I want is
for my words to be touched, gently, as if you never wanted to read
anyone else’s words
this moment is the exact definition of perfection; i don’t know anything more intense and beautiful than two people, madly wanting each other but still restraining themselves because the tension is too flawless to be broken.