Sticks and Stones
We tip toed through emptied hallways. We held our breaths against locked doors. We gave each other code names. Mine was "night hawk", yours was "chubby bunny". You hated that, but you never did change it. Maybe because it made me laugh. I slept in your bed until noon, even with the sunlight in our eyes. It bullied and pressured us to act like the responsible young adults we were. We laughed at its attempts and shut the shades. Remember that afternoon, waiting in line at the ATM? You reached for my hand. Your palm was rough and dry against my skin. I loved that.
People will talk, our friends tell us. They whisper over coffee tables and book cases. They point and gossip and paint us as sex obsessed teenagers. They imagine the reasons that things won't work out--you're too connected to your job, I'm too disconnected from my feelings. Anything to win an audience I suppose. Words change, you say, words change but feelings don't.
At night Laura Marling sang us to sleep, as our legs tangled and twisted beneath the sheets. I grabbed your arms and wrapped them around me. Protect me, I thought. Protect me from my fears, my doubts, myself.
People will talk, our friends tell us. They whisper over coffee tables and book cases. They point and gossip and paint us as sex obsessed teenagers. They imagine the reasons that things won't work out--you're too connected to your job, I'm too disconnected from my feelings. Anything to win an audience I suppose. Words change, you say, words change but feelings don't.
At night Laura Marling sang us to sleep, as our legs tangled and twisted beneath the sheets. I grabbed your arms and wrapped them around me. Protect me, I thought. Protect me from my fears, my doubts, myself.