𝐏𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐘 ; minsung ✓

²

two

i wasn't incorrect.

when hanging out in his vintage bright red vehicle,
with his shiny leather jacket thrown around the car seat
and my head between his thighs,
he tasted like a fresh can of fanta's cherry soda.

i wasn't incorrect.

when hanging out in my messy apartment a few blocks away,
with two bodies printed into a way too small mattress
and his strong arm around my body,
his touch felt like velvet bedsheets after a wild night.

i wasn't incorrect.

when hanging out in a small built-in wardrobe at his clean house,
with belligerent parents inside of the room
and his soft lips on top of my chapped ones,
his touch also felt like a silk robe on an indoorsy morning.

- han jisung