it doesnt matter that the first conversation we ever had started about me enquiring over some parma violets
what matters is the first time he came to my house he laid on my kitchen floor and complained about the weather
what matter is him complaining over me wanting to watch the notebook
what matters is me feeling like this whole thing is slowly slipping until he grabs me and steadies my feet and tells me i was stupid for walking on ice
what matters is the lack of making love but the connection that exists
what matters is not his cowardice or my reluctancy but the fact they both fit so perfectly hand in hand
what matters is the way his hair jolts round his face and haircuts dont make any difference
what matters is the way he takes off his shirt and scrunches up his face when hes in pain
what matters is the way he touches all my belongings and goes on my computer just to see what i was doing last
what matters is my mom likes him and he's told his all about me
what matters is no labels or commitments or dates
but the way we were sleeping and he held me and wouldnt let go