(no subject)
i wish you lived here. meet up after a day spent doing nothing, without each other. watch old black and white movies on classic stations, or listen to old men tell stories on the radio, if they still do that. chase the cat around the house, while dinner's in the oven, still thirty minutes before it's done. confess the bands we're not supposed to like, and listen to the songs we shouldn't be hearing. lay in bed and switch pillows because we prefer that one, not this one. lay on our stomachs, and trade back scratches for massages, listening to a show we got hooked on, because nothing else was on. give each other books that we wouldn't normally read, but will, because it's a gift from me to you; you to me. lay awake, not talking about what did or didn't happen, just happy that's over and that i can tell you're asleep. kiss your shoulder-blades, and i won't be mad if you leave without saying goodbye. a note on the pillow lets me know you'll be coming back home soon.