There are times,
the air is cold,
the wind runs through my sweater and sends chills up my spine,
electricity along my skin-
oh
y o u .
The way you let me lean into your neck,
hot breath makes me giggle,
my cold fingers,
melted in your palms.
You steal my phone,
tapping against the screen,
arguing with my best friend like it's nothing,
not something I'm absolutely in love with-
it's you.
YOU ARE READING
philophobia
Poesíait isn't always as it seems. first breaths of love, first breaks of hearts, first year. October 2013 - May 2015
