Friday, January 25, 2013

I like the peace in the backseat; where our seatbelts are the only things keeping us from melting into eachother entirely. You talk and I listen. Somehow my hand becomes fused with yours. I just stare at your thumb slipping slowly across the back of my hand as you talk about personality tests and music. It wasn't planned and you're still wearing your tux. But that only makes it more wonderful.

No comments:

Post a Comment