posted on the pavement with the streetlights on .
for every split second that i feel alone, there's a cream-filled moment of sweet contentment just knowing that he's right here .
im gripping my stomach, laughing so hard that i can barely say two words , "stop it" .
but those words are said in vain .
in fact, tonights bliss depends on the hope that he doesn't "stop it" .
my simple, yellow dress is skimming my thighs and its cold outside ...supposedly
... but i only feel the warmth .
his arms .
my smile .
THC is glistening behind my pupils but he only sees the good .
the whole .
the fluttering of my dress causes his naivete to make him high .
a discussion of one's day during the deepest hour of 9:noneteen . a non-existent hour that we can call our own .
with hands he pulls my dress at the hips towards his body while we talk, leaned on the car .
& now, my words are shot to hell .
a kiss on a collarbone makes a city mute .
a secret, honest silence that will hold on till we exhale ;