We drove up through the fog on Jackson Mountain, the music carried the silence with a melodic tune that made it almost seem sweet; it was quiet and loud at the same time. "You want a cigarette?" he asks, interrupting the flow of thought through my stormy mind. I silently take the cigarette from him and put it in my mouth, the cigarette filter touching my lips when I wish it were him instead. I pull out my lighter, a blue and yellow flame assistant making my lungs black. He could never really read my handwriting, and he could never really make up his mind. He never read my journals and he hardly ever touched my face. He slept till 4 in the afternoon and threw the pillows over his head if he was disturbed. He hasn't traveled and he doesn't like tattoos. Him. That sounded so sweet just hours before now ****** my tongue to bleed. my love has turned to resentment and everything he does now has lost its glow, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes don't shout laughter anymore, his curly hair is just a mess now, and his eyes once a beautiful sky blue are just a dusty old ball kicked around in bare feet... But still here I am with you driving through the fog on Jackson Mountain.

You make my head feel like I've been pounding it against a concrete wall, how many hands do I need to count the number of people I share you with? You make my hands shake, you make my heart race like a train, you're the conductor and we're derailing from the tracks as we speak.

Accepting the fact that this isn't love just appreciation honestly kills me. You say I'm your sunset, but I'm really just your breath when it's cold out.

I once was in love with a boy who smoked cigarettes, he had his own car and two jobs, and his hair was almost always a mess. He didn't really like breakfast and he over drank all the time but said he was fine. His diet was mostly fast food, I was sure beer and fry grease ran through his veins. He never understood why I cried and never understood why I kissed him so much.

I don't know if it was your kisses, or your hands on my bare skin, but I feel these butterflies in my stomach and I've never felt anything more pleasant than your lips on mine. That rush, that breath, that look; my God my knees are weak. Thinking of the future absolutely scares me... maybe you'll fall in love with a girl while you're away at college, but all that matters to me now is this moment and you. You, you, you. Where you'll be when you're 47 doesn't concern me right now- I have you, and you my darling make me smile. I don't know what this feeling is but I know it's from you; you're the clouds that bring the rain, your kisses, your hugs, your laugh, your smile make me feel covered in petals. I enjoy you, I enjoy your laugh, and your smile, I enjoy every touch, every thing you do to me makes me feel so much. You are my favorite thing, my God I want to dance with you.

"We'll just be friends" you said hours ago and I agreed, and although that line was banging on the inside of my head, I ignored it and kissed you harder. I loved the look in your eyes when you said "you can be doing this or we could be doing something else" and I just followed you back to the room where your hands engulfed me and your lips brought back these all too familiar feelings. After you woke up you grabbed me and pulled me towards you- I couldn't help but smile, I was so happy, ******* you on this cloudy Sunday morning made me feel whole and I haven't felt like that in so long. I hate the fact I let you touch me, but **** it I couldn't help it.