"Ramblings of a half-naked seventeen year old bozo"
I want his mornings,
To be there in his favorite moment
Witness the sun cast its light through the arms of his trees
Then return to bed and feel him move to me
Our bodies so close they were carved for each other.
Have his arms cast around my pale exterior and warm me up like the sun does to the Earth.
I want to spend the empty time with filled books of one another writings and stories.
I want him to move my strangling fly aways from my messy bun to the side and tiptoe his finger down my back.
Until be just holds me.
We'd talk about how you never want to give on someone like your parents gave up on each other.
An I never want to hurt anyone like my dad did when picked up the bottle.
We would rip each other open,
pour out ourselves and leave the sheets bloodstained from secrets.
But right now it's two beds, two places, stuck in nights.