Interlocked

I want to hold your hand
And walk around town
Into little shops with old fashioned books
Ones where the pages are hanging on
thread by thread
The words floating up and into our noses like each year of its existence has layered a smell into it of lives lived and words read aloud and spoken.

I want to hold your hand and try on funny jackets
In pokey vintage shops with expensive price tags that we won’t ever buy.
I want to sit in a coffee shop and watch you write as I sip on my hot chocolate and slip my eyes over a script I haven’t yet devoured.

I want to laugh and watch your eyes come alive with delight, your hair fall softly over your face and your smile spread across your cheeks.
In the warm summer sunshine, I want to spend golden hour with you, sitting on the grass by the water, in a floaty skirt and a goofy grin.

I want to dance with you in the early hours of the morning, in the little bubble we create by locking eyes. I don’t care if there’s music playing.

I want to be with you. In every sense. You make me feel like I’m in a movie. I want to keep this youthful glee because you make me feel like me.

You make me feel like a me that’s actually free.