Yeah, I think about kissing you.

Practically all the time.

I hope that while you’re in the windy city and you’re letting the wind kiss your cheeks and marveling in the lights you’re thinking of me too

I hope that while I’m stuck here dreaming about pushing back your blonde locks on that tattered couch in your basement you are thinking about kissing me the way you promised me you would

I hope that you’re thinking about the little things, like if I’ll let you touch my ******* or if our glasses will get in the way

Thoughts are one thing, actions are another. However, there certainly is something hopelessly romantic in the idea that while you are surrounded by the beauty of an unknown city you are still thinking of mousy little me, wondering how my lips curve because you haven’t touched them in a while, thinking about the taste in my tongue, and remembering our fried chicken night in the cafeteria where all I could think about was pushing you to the ground to bruise your lips with mine

Kissing you is most of what crosses my mind these days.