You remind me of being 13.
That immature crush that takes centuries to progress because I become too shy. So we catch each other at random, and I'm always excited to do so. Always planning what I'll do and say next time, but when it comes around...
My eyes just look or I turn away too fast. Somehow your arms always open at the same time each day though. And mine always fall right below your ears. So soft those arms are around my waist...
Those hugs I used to pray for when I was 13, except now I'm wearing a nightgown and feel this hug more than ever.
Maybe one conversation a day.
Always at least one hug.
Thirteen again.
Yet it's fun, secretly so intrigued.