Half asleep you whispered "Let's run away."
A tangle of limbs clung together under white sheets.
I studied your face, I never really paid attention to your face.
The way your eyelids flutter while you're resting or,
The way your hair crops your face perfectly.
I whisper so quietly, it's like a hushed breathe, "Together."
You were already sound asleep.

Several days later, just nearing dusk,
you pulled up in your truck and said "Let's run away."
As I got into the truck I spoke softly, "Together."
We drove and we joked about our childhood.
We drove and we opened the windows and blasted music.
We drove and let the crickets fill the silence in between.
Hours later we ended up in a field laying together on the bed of your truck.
We talked for hours that night, joking and laughing.
"We really should run away," I said. You didn't answer me for awhile,
I thought you were upset. You pulled me closer buried your face into my hair and whispered "Together."