19. Artist. Wanderer.
I'm Jim Morrison's lesbian bastard.
If she hugs you I hope she holds you long enough so you feel safe.
I hope she holds you like you’re made of feathers.
At the same time I hope she knows she’s hugging a broken winged dove.
If she brushes the hair from your face,
I hope her fingertips linger on your cheek.
I hope she smiles at you nonchalantly.
At the same time I hope that smile reassures you of how she feels.
If she holds your hand,
I hope she lets you take the lead.
I hope she knows you’re independent,
And like to have your thumb up top.
At the same time I hope she defends your honor.
I hope she establishes her intimidation and proves herself to you.
If she rubs your thigh,
I hope she isn’t lust filled.
I hope she rubs your thigh during dinner with friends just because she needs to reassure herself you’re real.
At the same time I hope she wants you every second if the day even if it’s a simple hug.
If she kisses you.
God if she kisses you,
I hope she kisses you like you’re air
And she can’t breath.
I hope it makes her feel dizzy,
I hope she realizes that your lips are adrenaline shocks to the body.
I hope she kisses you and you feel completely numb.
Because I hope she does everything right except kiss you the right way.
I hope you keep kissing her trying to feel what you felt kissing me at 11:20 at night in the middle of the ocean.
So jealous of the salty dew that sat on my lips,
Trying over and over to wipe off the sea on my lips with yours.
You’ll remember the way Id lift your chin and kiss you with a nervousness that made the waves break around us.
How I’d take your face into my hands and kiss your lips over and over every kiss injected with salt and warmth.
I hope you remember that I kissed you like your lips were the only ones that imprinted perfectly on mine.
I hope you feel numb near her.