pt. 3

my favorite place is the inside of your elbow

how my hand finds its way to hold you there — how warm you feel against my cold and brooding fingers

you smell so strongly of yourself

my sheets are coated in the stench of us on late nights, encased in my blankets, watching tv shows and eating shitty food

our pajamas don’t change

sometimes our legs shift

sometimes i am so wrapped up in the thought of you that i don’t need covers, that the warmth of your presence is enough

when i lean into your chest, i remember the first moment i ever fell in love with you

on a dingy couch surrounded by soon to be friends, under blankets we haven’t seen since

your chest filled to touch my back, then settled back into your spine, taking me with it

it is so lackluster sometimes — to have lips unscathed by yours

to have hands unheld by yours

to watch you wish you were miles away with someone else

but when we lay there

and your chest

and your smell

and your elbows

i feel like the first person who has ever existed

i feel like someone is looking at me for the first time

i can’t believe how beautiful breathing can be when you’re doing it