He misses the days
when their legs were threaded together
under the giant wave of a comforter
and they just drowned in each other
so eager for innocent touches and stolen, chaste kisses
He misses the days when home wasn't just
an incorrect definition of his ratty apartment
with peeling chrysanthemum wallpaper
but a synonym for when he would intertwine their nimble fingers together
just to remind himself,
he was not isolated in the wars of his corrupted skull
He misses when she would always let deep, throaty chuckles escape her chapped lips
and not faux, seductive giggles
and when her smile felt so molded to fit his own
like they were a puzzle meant to be put together
and never again pulled apart
He misses how even though his bandaid plastered heart ached
when she was not in between the shield of his arms,
it warmed at the reminder that she would be soon
and their heartbeats, one on top of the other,
would eventually sync together, forming one big metronome
of infatuation, of adoration
love was their music
He misses that
He misses her
He misses being in love
•••
A/N: it's been a few days since I've uploaded sorry. I'm homesick right now so this happened. (I'm blaring sad music bc yeah)
Random but what are your thoughts about twenty one pilots' new music? I really like jumpsuit :)
YOU ARE READING
he/him/you
Poetry[completed] some half assed thoughts i've had about unrequited love and unnecessary hope shattering revelations
