if you sigh and tell me that he doesn’t love you, if you sigh and say he’ll eventually forget about you, i will remind you.
i’ll remind you that all of those whispered sweet nothing’s become everything when it’s late at night and your limbs are so wound up that you can’t tell whose is whose anymore. when there are actions to back the sweet everything’s up, soft temple kisses like praying for a peaceful night, a warm hand on the small of your back. sweet, everything and anything sweet. but not nothing.