We’re listening to a storm and

the thunder rolls right through

us. You say ‘listen to the bass’

you say ‘what if the whole sky

was a speaker’. An hour goes
by and your eyes are closed
but I can’t tell if you’re sleeping.
Another hour goes by and
you’re laughing and I’m staring
at your hip at the spot where
your shirt has lifted up. I’m
writing these things down
because some nights are like
a storm that comes close but
is never right above you, like
a lot of loud noises but nothing
that strikes. Everything here is
forgettable but I don’t want to
forget any of it.
anne, a night where nothing extravagant happened except being with you (via anneisrestless)