Sunday, January 10, 2016

Dried Paint


He has sunset eyes and always drives with the windows down.

He doesn’t take no for an answer but he doesn’t ask for much. He flexes his toes when he plays video games, rocks back and forth and tenses every time he strikes. He laughs short; a little bubble of humor, but it is a beautiful sound ringing in my ears long after he’s gone. He is quiet but when he speaks his words are thoughtful, thoughtless, and his bass buzzes in my chest: thump thump thump. He touches the deepest part of my soul, barely reaching, he knows me inside and out and he says that he loves me.


He has sunset eyes and always drives with the windows down.
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