your hand on my knee, my smile on my lips, the wind in our hair

2. unspoken "i love you"'s, sacharrine sweet kisses and your eyes on fire

3. your fingertips along my skin, the paintings etched on yours, the breeze from the open window and the crests and valleys of your breaths

4. perfect pauses, unbuckled seatbelts, rooms with the A/C cranked up

5. certain uncertainty, a blissful abbyss;
*this is it

"i love you, you pretentious ****."
you turn around and look at me
with such royalty and entitement
you mumble:
"tell me something i don't know."
"ok."
so i will.
i will tell you that the moment i laid eyes on your porcelain skin,
i felt as though if i even
looked at it the wrong way,
you'd break
i will tell you that when you whisper your bloodshot apologies
into my ear
my skin does not crawl
like it should
i will tell you that the inside of your heart is a dry desert
and i am trapped inside your ribcage
never have i ever been so thristy
for your love
i will tell you that the first time you pushed me away i found myself crawling back to you
you said i deserved it
and i believed you
so when you tell me to tell you something you don't know,
i will tell you:
*i hate you, you pretentious ****