(no subject)
i stood by your door for so long before i opened it: we both sleep facing the wall
[and you turn over] in sync [with] door hinges squeaking
i can't decide if you're smiling or not. i walk into your room. i feel silly.
(maybe i'll kiss your cheek and leave)
(maybe i'll slip out of my clothes and into your bed)
i kiss you sweetly. your cheeks and chin and forehead and nose and lips.
if you noticed that my teeth and hair are brushed, you don't say anything. (maybe you think i'm always so clean? {angelic} looking.)
i sit c a u t i o u s l y on your bed and i see you are weighing the shift, cos
what would they think right now, jumping to conclusions just allusions of other times
(where i fall backwards so clumsily, and our mouthes can't stay touching... so much for movie love)
however i wouldn't fit anyway, you sprawl over, your sock-feet sliding over the edge of the mattress, and i remember how i sleep compressed, and this is all a metaphor for something.
gradually i recline slowly, running my hands around your neck and i place my head on your shoulders more gingerly than i usually would.
we tiptoe around all morning, coming downstairs in pajamas and i'm squeezing your fingers [i love you i love you i love you] and watching for your smile.
i hate writer's craft. (but i love you)