what stories does he tell you? the good ones? or the bad ones too?

my fingers are jammed between the door and the hinges and your toes under the cracks and somehow every night it's everything and it's enough

a daydream-like blur of events; the sea breathing beneath our legs, the light shimmering against the water the smell of salt - you and your arms and me. we take all of this in. i feel you sigh. "so **** beautiful." i look at you, and you were looking right back at me.