Fantasies.
Ones with my head on your chest to ones with my head between your legs. I'll let you decide which ones come more often.
I'm laying here trying to figure out if I've got control over my head yet and I doubt it. But I want you so much, you make it so easy. I'm trying to wait. I can't get my mind to cooperate. It could be that I'm with you everyday or that you provide me with nostalgia that I appreciate.
Either way I really want to lay with you, on a small bed, so that we could be close. I want to stroke the skin underneath your jaw with my cold forefinger. I want to comb your hair after you wash it. I want to mindlessly trace circles on your skin. I want dance to recite old rap with you, and watch movies on the couch with you, and wake to your euphonious voice. You are an aubade.
I almost feel at home with you.
