as i bleed my heart out on this keyboard
you instantly flashed in my mind
my face in between your large hands, as you started to lean forward making our forehead's touch

i do not write for you,
i write about you
more importantly, the little things you do
like how you rests your hand, particularly your right hand on my thigh or how you'd take mine and press them against your chest while whispering to me how much they made your heart race

i remember how childish of us to pass a stupid crumpled note
back and forth
just to exchange i love you's
but i love to watch that smile slowly stretches across your plump lips

we're tangled in the sheets, strong arms wrapped around me
it certainly felt like home
your scent sinks deeper into my skin
i hope you don't see my hands reaching out just to touch yours

i'm running out of words
i think you have given me enough to write about that even flowers grew on paper