my lungs felt like glass bulbs and my head was full of the sea. I leaned across the glove box with my eyes closed. He told me that was the best kiss he'd ever received; maybe it was the mint chocolate chip ice cream.
from far away they were green, up close though, his eyes were blue. Definitely blue. A comforter beneath my tanned legs, his hand against my thigh. His lips touched mine, gentle and innocent. We fell asleep to the buzz of the television.
algebra was another language, but when he spoke to me; I understood every equation. His kiss left my head spinning. Maybe the pencils held too much lead.
we spent the summer in a run down arcade. He had a freckle on his chest that I swore looked like New Jersey. Our kisses tasted of kettle corn.
his hands were calloused. I wish I never knew what cigarettes tasted like.
I could write an entire book about each time his lips met mine.
my sweater reeked of *** but he didn't seem to mind. When we passed through the halls he called me Jess.
it shouldn't have been him, but too much ***** can impair ones judgement.
we spent nights lying in the grass, it tickled my back. He gave me his lucky cigarette.
the room was dark and the stairs creaked. His fingers quickened the pulse in my neck. I kept my eyes open.