(no subject)
Two teenagers wrapped themselves in each others hands,
He gazed over her warm body, and realized how wonderfully beautiful she was,
His big hands lie perfectly on her hips as the two listened to each others even breathing,
A sense of security it brought, being by her side as he thought.
Being as close as he could be to her heart,
He longed to be with her for more than just this moment, to be with her forever.
Somewhere between the trouble-free years of being a child and the beginning of a complicated teenage life,
The two friends plunged into a sea of deep, deep love.
They grew up together, in diapers,
As neighbors, they knew more about each other then they did about themselves,
They had memories of sharing berry popsicles and lemonade stands,
And fighting about stupid things like whether to play ghost-in-the-graveyard or capture the flag.
Little did they and their families know,
Those memories would never be forgotten,
But new, brighter memories would be created,
Strong memories of first kisses and first loves.
She loved everything about him, plain and simple,
She loved the way his bleach white teeth would slightly overlap each other,
How his cheeks formed a small dimple on each side of his newly-matured face,
And his heart would open up as he smiled.
She loved how he always smelled sweet,
Always clean and warm, somewhat like the seashore,
His breath hot, and showing a hint of cinnamon,
She smelled all these aromas as he pulled her close into his secure arms.
His eyes were ice-blue, a ring around the pupil that reminded her of Caribbean waters,
They even seemed to have waves that would move faintly as she stared,
Catching herself staring into them for more than just a few minutes at a time,
They resembled a set of newborn poochs eyes, gentle and soothing.
She loved all of him, but what she loved the most,
Was how his muscular hands nearly doubled the size of hers,
His fingers resting on the tips of her own,
His hands were soft and comforting.
Those hands supported her,
They could lift her up and carry her every emotion,
In her eyes, those hands could move mountains,
As he was angered, the veins on the back would stick out and his fists would ball up.
She loved running her own tiny fingers through the rivulets of his palm,
And playing thumb wars and surprisingly winning successfully,
Her technique began by digging her nails into his firm grip,
Making him yell and surrender in pain.
His was a little different; he would use his other hand,
It would snake its way to her ticklish spots and make her give in from laughing,
She was ticklish everywhere, especially when he touched her,
Her laugh was full of energy and lightened the room up.
What he loved the most was how her lips were small and plush,
They werent thin, but they fit her delightful mouth perfectly,
He adored staring at them and longing to kiss and touch them,
Sometimes getting so caught up by staring he actually would.
Her eyes were a light grey,
And they were full of wonder and amazement,
Her pupils were always wide,
Wide enough that he could see his own eyes staring back at him.
The reflection of him in her eyes symbolized something;
He was the object she saw, all the time,
What she thought about, what she dreamed about,
He was her world and her life.
fuckkkkkk this
He gazed over her warm body, and realized how wonderfully beautiful she was,
His big hands lie perfectly on her hips as the two listened to each others even breathing,
A sense of security it brought, being by her side as he thought.
Being as close as he could be to her heart,
He longed to be with her for more than just this moment, to be with her forever.
Somewhere between the trouble-free years of being a child and the beginning of a complicated teenage life,
The two friends plunged into a sea of deep, deep love.
They grew up together, in diapers,
As neighbors, they knew more about each other then they did about themselves,
They had memories of sharing berry popsicles and lemonade stands,
And fighting about stupid things like whether to play ghost-in-the-graveyard or capture the flag.
Little did they and their families know,
Those memories would never be forgotten,
But new, brighter memories would be created,
Strong memories of first kisses and first loves.
She loved everything about him, plain and simple,
She loved the way his bleach white teeth would slightly overlap each other,
How his cheeks formed a small dimple on each side of his newly-matured face,
And his heart would open up as he smiled.
She loved how he always smelled sweet,
Always clean and warm, somewhat like the seashore,
His breath hot, and showing a hint of cinnamon,
She smelled all these aromas as he pulled her close into his secure arms.
His eyes were ice-blue, a ring around the pupil that reminded her of Caribbean waters,
They even seemed to have waves that would move faintly as she stared,
Catching herself staring into them for more than just a few minutes at a time,
They resembled a set of newborn poochs eyes, gentle and soothing.
She loved all of him, but what she loved the most,
Was how his muscular hands nearly doubled the size of hers,
His fingers resting on the tips of her own,
His hands were soft and comforting.
Those hands supported her,
They could lift her up and carry her every emotion,
In her eyes, those hands could move mountains,
As he was angered, the veins on the back would stick out and his fists would ball up.
She loved running her own tiny fingers through the rivulets of his palm,
And playing thumb wars and surprisingly winning successfully,
Her technique began by digging her nails into his firm grip,
Making him yell and surrender in pain.
His was a little different; he would use his other hand,
It would snake its way to her ticklish spots and make her give in from laughing,
She was ticklish everywhere, especially when he touched her,
Her laugh was full of energy and lightened the room up.
What he loved the most was how her lips were small and plush,
They werent thin, but they fit her delightful mouth perfectly,
He adored staring at them and longing to kiss and touch them,
Sometimes getting so caught up by staring he actually would.
Her eyes were a light grey,
And they were full of wonder and amazement,
Her pupils were always wide,
Wide enough that he could see his own eyes staring back at him.
The reflection of him in her eyes symbolized something;
He was the object she saw, all the time,
What she thought about, what she dreamed about,
He was her world and her life.
fuckkkkkk this