(no subject)
Remember it was a little over a year ago? When the cold lightly dusted the dirt with icelets. We were walking back, up and down the hills. Between the paths. Occasionally bumping into each other, our bodies subtly flirting. My face flustered a little when your nose would sneak up against mine. You tease.
We came upon a spot that framed the stars in the late evening sky. We wrestled. You pinned me down, but I would never admit defeat. Down we laid and lost ourselves in the stellar blanket above us. You remember? The concrete was hard and cold beneath our young soft bodies. You laid your arm down for me to rest on, and I fixed myself on your belly instead.
Looking up, you giggled and I smiled warmly. Neither of us could recognize the constellations mapped above us. Pointing up at a set of stars, "let's make our own constellations.. that one looks like a unicorn" and we listed several outrageous names of what those stars would be. It didn't matter. We were laying down together and it was our constellation.
Your hands were cold so I held them. Remember?
And the several nights and weeks and nights that passed afterwards, I would look up and see our constellation. The unicorn. The laser gun. The dog or horse, somethingsomething about a mad scientist.
Walking in the indigo evening, my friend wanted to share a new constellation he learned recently. Pointing up at a set of stars, he says "Cassiopeia"
and I remembered the cold.
We came upon a spot that framed the stars in the late evening sky. We wrestled. You pinned me down, but I would never admit defeat. Down we laid and lost ourselves in the stellar blanket above us. You remember? The concrete was hard and cold beneath our young soft bodies. You laid your arm down for me to rest on, and I fixed myself on your belly instead.
Looking up, you giggled and I smiled warmly. Neither of us could recognize the constellations mapped above us. Pointing up at a set of stars, "let's make our own constellations.. that one looks like a unicorn" and we listed several outrageous names of what those stars would be. It didn't matter. We were laying down together and it was our constellation.
Your hands were cold so I held them. Remember?
And the several nights and weeks and nights that passed afterwards, I would look up and see our constellation. The unicorn. The laser gun. The dog or horse, somethingsomething about a mad scientist.
Walking in the indigo evening, my friend wanted to share a new constellation he learned recently. Pointing up at a set of stars, he says "Cassiopeia"
and I remembered the cold.