i sit here in tomorrow,
as you lay there in yesterday.

i want: my lips on your collar bones, my fingers digging into your shoulder blades, to breathe in the sweet scent of your neck, my legs around your waist, your body steady while mine is not.
i want: my shirt off, your fingers working the clasp of my bra, thumbs caressing, your tongue working magic in places untouched, to see you smiling, smiling because it is lovely and you love it and i love it and we’ve been waiting and wanting for so long.
you want: things i don’t know about. things i can’t give.
you want: a girl, any girl, just a girl.
i want: you.

i took a polaroid photo to give to you but it came out blank and i feel like that’s us; a shot taken and still nothing.

i keep my window open at night to feel the breeze blow my hair across the pillow and tilt my head back to look at the stars. it always starts me crying because the night sky is so big and beautiful and because somewhere across the world your time catches up with mine while i am sleeping and because you may be looking at the same patch of stars as i am and that is crazy beautiful. i wonder if you look at them and think of me or if you can't even see them in your suburban block and you don't care anyway because you're too busy looking at the sparkle in her eyes to notice those distant specks of light.

the problem is i ******* hate you. i ******* hate you so much because i ******* love you so much, and i don’t want to. you’re just some stupid boy with a gorgeous face and a lovely voice who knows how to make me smile. and i wish that was enough. but it’s not. it never has been.

i want you to tell me i’m beautiful, every day until i believe it. the truth is i was never beautiful, not until you said it, until you lied about it. i felt something when you said those words, something i’ve never been before. i’m different after you and i don’t know how to go back to being who i was.

my first
a lion inside a boy
a full moon (i thought you gave off light; you only reflected mine)
a breathless english winter, pale and icy
an explorer of collar bones and thighs and shoulder blades
my love, my life
the loveliest flower, or perhaps an entire garden
a time traveller (you showed me the world at 5.30am)
a stupid teenage boy
july 28th to november 4th
a semicolon - a story to be continued;