loser lesbian writer

it'll be a day during that strange gap between my birthday and yours, those few months where the leaves go from burning oranges and reds to non-existent, where a chill starts to bristle in the wind, finding its way throughout our flat. we'll have just celebrated another year together.

i'm curled up next to you in bed, the straps of my cami top slipping further down my shoulders as i get comfortable by your side. every anxiety in my body disappears from just being next to you, your presence putting my whole body at ease.

in my hand is one of the books from our home library, half-read already. you're playing a game, one of your all-time favourites you always get so excited telling me about. we're immersed in two different worlds but share them within the same bubble, our offhand, muttered comments about our respective plots blending with the background noise of the tv and the soft patter of the rain outside. it'll be the greatest peace we've ever known, just the two of us relaxed together.

i'll listen to you rant about something you just can't quite get, and i smile proudly once you do it right. you'll listen to me ramble on about the book i'm immersed in despite all the negative comments i make about it while reading, knowing i'll end up giving it at least 4 stars in the end.

maybe we'll get caught up in one of our little jokes, infectious laughter filling the room (and when it gets quiet again, i know one of us will start giggling and set the both of us off again). as always, i'll try and do anything just to hear that wonderful laugh of yours.

it's sweet, warm, safe. it's the kind of space i'd always dreamt of for the two of us, where we can just be us.

rolling over to my side in bed now, i look at the space where you should be. the space i always say is there for you, even though you can't occupy it just yet.

are you sure?