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Description
I like faces. I like touching skin and feeling cheeks and textured bodies. And I like being touched. I like it when people seem fascinated by the little things, like how when I laugh my eyes scrunch at the sides and how my front right tooth has a chip and I have a small dent just below my nose to the right. I like to pretend he will notice everything when we see each other, and that he will be overwhelmed by all of me but still want more.

Because I know when I see him I will. I will look into his eyes and I will find the beauty in them that no one else has noticed before, and I will touch his ears and eyelids and lips and nose and feel and feel and feel and he will do the same, maybe.

And then maybe we will go home to our house. Our house, it sounds so right but I am scared and maybe he does not feel the same? But maybe he does, so we will be able to go to our house together just for us and we will tickle at fantasies we have all had before.

It will be dinner time and we will eat outside and dream in the grass. Our spoons will spin our soup in unison, and our hearts will beat in time as he bends close and I lean in. But it will not be time yet for my lips will feel his lips. Not yet.

Night time will sneak up on us then, as it does so often now, and we will sneak inside. Once we are there, we will lie down on the carpet. Maybe he likes hard wood or tiles. Our house will be new and empty, ready for us to fill it with a lifetime of memories.

His cheek will be on the floor, scrunching gently from the weight of his good bones and smart brain and cute hair and bright eyes. Those eyes, those gems of colour, will be closed at first until I lean in again and kiss his nose, and we will lie on our tummies and stare at each other more. Maybe if I am lucky, he will lean in next and we will kiss and feel the sparks I know are there.

But maybe he will not, maybe it will all be a dream I have years from now and he is really sitting and leaning against the wall of a house that is not called ours. Maybe I am all alone lying in the grass staring at the stars after dinner, maybe he will not be there to hold my hand as we walk inside for bed without a bed. Maybe I am expecting too much, just to be disappointed.

I guess that is why people are ambitious. So that their ambition helps them keep what they want and call theirs, so that it is truly theirs and no one else's.

Maybe.

Description
I like faces. I like touching skin and feeling cheeks and textured bodies. And I like being touched. I like it when people seem fascinated by the little things, like how when I laugh my eyes scrunch at the sides and how my front right tooth has a chip and I have a small dent just below my nose to the right. I like to pretend he will notice everything when we see each other, and that he will be overwhelmed by all of me but still want more.

Because I know when I see him I will. I will look into his eyes and I will find the beauty in them that no one else has noticed before, and I will touch his ears and eyelids and lips and nose and feel and feel and feel and he will do the same, maybe.

And then maybe we will go home to our house. Our house, it sounds so right but I am scared and maybe he does not feel the same? But maybe he does, so we will be able to go to our house together just for us and we will tickle at fantasies we have all had before.

It will be dinner time and we will eat outside and dream in the grass. Our spoons will spin our soup in unison, and our hearts will beat in time as he bends close and I lean in. But it will not be time yet for my lips will feel his lips. Not yet.

Night time will sneak up on us then, as it does so often now, and we will sneak inside. Once we are there, we will lie down on the carpet. Maybe he likes hard wood or tiles. Our house will be new and empty, ready for us to fill it with a lifetime of memories.

His cheek will be on the floor, scrunching gently from the weight of his good bones and smart brain and cute hair and bright eyes. Those eyes, those gems of colour, will be closed at first until I lean in again and kiss his nose, and we will lie on our tummies and stare at each other more. Maybe if I am lucky, he will lean in next and we will kiss and feel the sparks I know are there.

But maybe he will not, maybe it will all be a dream I have years from now and he is really sitting and leaning against the wall of a house that is not called ours. Maybe I am all alone lying in the grass staring at the stars after dinner, maybe he will not be there to hold my hand as we walk inside for bed without a bed. Maybe I am expecting too much, just to be disappointed.

I guess that is why people are ambitious. So that their ambition helps them keep what they want and call theirs, so that it is truly theirs and no one else's.

Maybe.