It's so beautiful when the boy smiles
I’m waiting to wake up.
As his fingers scratch my back, tracing a path across my spine that makes me shiver. As he presses a kiss to my forehead before breakfast or the first cigarette, morning breath tickling my nose. As the rain trickles down the window and I grasp at his shoulders, edged on by each gasp or moan I can draw from his lips. As he catches my eye across the bar in the seconds before someone else is shouting for his attention.
I’m waiting to wake up and be told this dream is too good for me.
As his fingers scratch my back, tracing a path across my spine that makes me shiver. As he presses a kiss to my forehead before breakfast or the first cigarette, morning breath tickling my nose. As the rain trickles down the window and I grasp at his shoulders, edged on by each gasp or moan I can draw from his lips. As he catches my eye across the bar in the seconds before someone else is shouting for his attention.
I’m waiting to wake up and be told this dream is too good for me.