(no subject)
my tummy full of food that we lovingly prepared for each other, the two of us cuddled on the couch. it was comfortable this time, his body falling off the edge of the cushion, my legs all akimbo over the arm. once, when we were new friends, we watched a ridiculous movie and our arms wound around each other just like this and we kissed like shameful teenagers. later, laying in his bed, my lips raw and sore from pressing them to him, he touched a part of me that spit and bubbled over like a shaken soda can, tears pouring messily down my face. after months of art making, sitting in my studio every thursday, i've learned to love myself again, trained myself to find comfort in a friendship grounded in mutual understanding.