franmunier

my heart is heavy, it beats loudly whenever i think of him

the memory of his lips on my skin hurts, like a sunburnt after a long day at the beach

and i can’t fall asleep, i can’t feel anything other than the imperious need of feeling him again and, as i close my eyes, that’s when i relive the goosebumps and soft sounds, his and mine, and late summer nights that had us lost in bedsheets, all the words he said and the light caresses on my back or that one hug that made me feel incredibly at peace

my heart is heavy and i almost can’t breathe because i want to tell him, that i miss him and that i’m sorry, that i did not mean a single word, that i want to try and risk it with him, that i want to know what is the first memory of his life, that i want to fall and feel the love, that i don’t care if it won’t be easy and that, yes, i will miss him every day except the weekends and, yes, that i won’t always be able to tell him that i desperately miss him; i want to tell him - again - that i’m scared to care for the people too, and that i’m scared of what i fear i started to feel for him

i can’t almost breathe because i want to kiss him, every time i meet his eyes at the bar

i want to kiss him, to hear him talking about his day and plans, to drink coffee with him in a crowded and noisy place

i want his hugs, i want his comforting tips and his vocal messages and stupid selfies

i want a thousand other photos of the full moon and maybe some of the stars too

i want to touch his dark hair, and feel his skin and burnt wood eyes on mine

and i can’t, can’t fall asleep

i can’t, can’t breathe

dancin' in your Levi's

drunk under a streetlight, I

I knew you

hand under my sweatshirt