Jul 27, 2025
I sometimes think about the poem a boy wrote. And it's just his best friend's phone number. Because really, a poem could be anything. The way time halts when lovers watch a sunset. Fresh bedsheets and binge-reading enemies to lovers slow burn. Cold hands in warm ones. Whispering, "I'd break my rules for you". Tight hugs. Packing an extra lunch. Crying alone on the bathroom floor. Absence of closures and moving on. 14 missed calls. Skinned knees and laughing them off. Dilating pupils. Walking an extra mile to spend more time with them. "I know you are sleeping but..." texts. Playlists to fantasize with. Empty ice cream tubs. Crunched up love letters. Ends and beginnings.
