Is this being an adult?
Sleeping over at a friend’s house
making out, keeping each other warm
splitting in the morning over sticky notes
departing separately to the same place
pretending I didn’t feel my bone marrow on fire for you last night
pretending I didn’t stare into your eyes and search for some sense of a person, some emotion, some message
buying breakfast alone with my hair tangled and last night’s shirt wrinkled
drinking coffee spiked with magic juice that’ll make your face disappear from my mind or taunt me with your voice for the rest of the day, however it pleases.
When we were made, we were set apart.