Your Favorite Sweater

Come fuck me up.

I hope you had a great night. I really do. It would have been nice to have been in your arms and talked to you. I want to do that again. Only that, for a few months, then maybe we can leave your bed and actually go outside. Until then I'd love the just enjoy being with you. Every time I see you, you are just more adorable. I love the way your face can look so dark. Your eyebrows make you look almost frightening in the shadows, like there's something bad on your mind. I love your hair and how it's so simple. I don't know. I'm not a poet, I just like you. I like your arms, I love your back and how you react to the touch. I like your facial hair sometimes, although I gave it a 6 on a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being death. I like your eyes and how kind they can be, how sometimes you look at my body, but mostly mostly my face. I like your feet mixed between mine. I like your chest and resting my head there. I love the faces you make. I love saying something quirky and turning to see your face so close to mine, so full of something like intelligence, amusement, condescension, and playfulness. I love laying my head on your chest and how you would sometimes sit up a bit when you said something too far removed from playful, how you are the first person I've been with so close and you are so confident and you truly believe you can be whatever you want to be. It's a bit boring, in an interesting way. I'd love to figure that all out. I love the way you gave me a hug today, I liked your black shirt and just how goddamn attractive you are. I like how candid we are. But still I end up waiting for you. Maybe it's because I like a bit of suspense. Maybe we need that. But please let me be in your arms again so soon. I can't wait for so long. I think about it. I like how rarely you laugh. I like how we talk about murders. I like how you are my age. Fuck fuck fuck I just like you a lot. I like when you pull me on top of you. I like when you said we could roll one, 6 hours, depends on the dose. I like how you never judge me and how you are incredibly matter-of-fact. I love how you said I'd never have to prove anything to you. You're so fucking splendid. I love that you don't get annoyed at me for cussing so much. I love how you complimented my dimples. I like being playful. I like being completely silent, nothing but gently moving fingers across skin and breathing in deep. I like how sometimes you'd hold me so tight. When I said I'd try and make you happy when you're sad. I don't understand everything you do. I love that you smoke, the way that we both smelled like cigarettes when we went back inside from talking to your best friend. I love how you yell in your house. I love your bed, I hate that clock right next to it that I can't help but see and be sad at the minutes and hours passing. I love how I laughed (I forget what you said) when you were on top of me, just there, I could feel you breathe and feel your skin. Nothing better. I like how you talk about liquor, how you talk about books, talk about whatever you want. I love how you ask me the dumbest, tiniest questions about my day, like you want to know the details. I love your honesty. I love your past. I love your motives. I like how bare and still your room is, I like how you asked me if watching a movie in your bed was OK. I like how you react when I see a stupid picture of you. I love your voice, I think you sound weird and dramatic when you whisper, keep doing it. I like when you say "Mhm", even though I said I thought it was annoying and condescending. I like how you made yourself be who you are now. Invite me over. I like how you just want human contact, you're not too tough to admit it. I like how you're comfortable with your sexuality. I love your problems. I like your parents. I like signing with them. I like your life, although you say it's been uninteresting. I like how we are seemingly opposites, but we really want the same things. I like that I was nervous when I was first in your room. I love the way you keep touching me lightly, as we walk out into the middle of the night to say goodbye. Your hand on my back as you pass, just a bit. Holy fuck let me spend the night. I don't want to wait to be with you again. I love the way you want someone to hate you, and you think it could be me one day. I like that you're not sacrosanct. You like to know things. You like intelligence and being nice. I love your courtesy, growing courtesy. I will think about being in your arms some more. The only time I really forget is when I'm at work. Do you think about it, too? How much do you want to do that again? Because, yeah, we should.