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Small things

It's the strangest thing. You're across the room and I am relaxed but aware. You're near me and I can talk and think, but I can't really focus. Then you're close, and it's all I am aware of. We're stood on the underground, talking confidently Playing our game of flirting And then the doors open and people pour on Gently encouraging our bodies closer together. He voluntarily moves closer, his face an inch from mine And my mind numbs. I can feel his arm against mine, His breath on my face, Our legs slightly entwined from the crowding, And I freeze, both nervous and electrified Aware of how easily I could embrace him Aware of how much I want to. The moment passes and my heart slows But my body is more aware of his presence Of how near to me he stands every so often His face so temptingly close to mine. I am so unsure of how he feels that I go over all the things that prove he likes me; him placing gum in my mouth, avoiding my open hand his eagerness to see me even when it's inconvenient his intimate smile when I make him happy his infectious laugh when I say something funny his reference to our inside jokes his snapchat showing that I am his favourite But most of all his ignorance to my personal space A space I want him in. I count the minutes until you will invade it again.
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Written by
scarlett-powell
Welsh
Published
May 24, 2015
Lines·Words
36·248
Tags
#love#him#younglove
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