Kiss her. Slowly, take your time, there’s no place you’d rather be. Kiss her but not like you’re waiting for something else, like your hands beneath her shirt or her skirt or tangled up in her bra straps. Nothing like that. Kiss her like you’ve forgotten any other mouth that your mouth has ever touched. Kiss her with a curious childish delight. Laugh into her mouth, inhale her sighs. Kiss her until she moans. Kiss her with her face in your hands. Or your hands in her hair. Or pulling her closer at the waist. Kiss her like you want to take her dancing. Like you want to spin her into an open arena and watch her look at you like you’re the brightest thing she’s ever seen. Kiss her like she’s the brightest thing you’ve ever seen. Take your time. Kiss her like the first and only piece of chocolate you’re ever going to taste. Kiss her until she forgets how to count. Kiss her stupid. Kiss her silent. Come away, ask her what 2+2 is and listen to her say your name in answer.
”This Is How You Keep Her” (via hefuckin
Sunday Jul 27 @ 10:21pm
Sunday Jul 27 @ 10:10pm
it’s the times like these we remember. One day you’ll be 80 years old trying to remember what it was like to have 20 year old mind and a 18 year old heart, and then you’ll realise. It’s not the big things like birthdays and Christmas and big events that you remember, but the spontaneous walk at 2am, the drive beyond the sunset and the dreams and aspirations but mystery of what is beyond that sunset
Sunday Jul 27 @ 02:44pm
slightly obsessed with the new pants