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#hastagrelationshipgoals-
But I want a relationship we can't tweet about... A little secrecy and some privacy, little hints that I'm yours and you're mine but they'd never know what we get up to
with your lips laughing against my neck, my sides, my tummy and my thighs
in the backseat, on the front steps, before we say goodnight.
"I'd never ride for a [n*gga] who had bitches in the backseat"-
It's like we're flying down miles and miles of asphalt with barely any brakes and absolutely no hesitation
your seatbelt is off, your left hand around my right one, your thumb rubbing circles into my skin
burning tires and windows down.
"Degrees and dreams, instead of J's and Mary jane"-
That easy way you tell me to do what makes me happy, even if you know I have to go somewhere far away
How you kiss me like I'll disappear in the seconds that we have left
How I'd sometimes rather not have any ambition if it meant I had to go anywhere at all-
Light one up and maybe I'll get high with you, high enough to forget that we won't be in the same place in twelve weeks and four days and fifty something seconds and this doesn't even make sense but when you hold me I think maybe everything will be okay if we never move.
Sex-
But sometimes not sex.
Occasionally just touching, drinking, drowning. Trembling trembling. Leaves before they fall, shudders along a spine, damp breath rattling between teeth (yours, mine).
Sometimes you just touch me, your hands silent as they ghost on the sides of my body as you trace your path from ribs to waist to hips to thighs to hips to waist to ribs and I count backwards from ten and try not to implode into tiny constellations
And sometimes I touch you, my heart in my throat and my fingers buried in velvet and silk pooling between my legs.
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This is it, for now. But a work in progress perhaps.
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