Us

Journal Entry pt. who knows

You always let me have that last scoop of ice cream

Even though I can see it in your eyes how much you want it.

But I think what you want most is to hear me try and convince you to eat it instead

And when I finally give up and stuff my mouth with the entire spoonful, you tell me that I look cute and watch me almost spit out everything in my mouth in disbelief, but you observe in pure amusement.

We talk about jackets and dreams and you take my sweaty ”girl hands” in yours,

Caressing them and saying,

“You deserve to be treated like a princess or a queen, whichever you prefer.”

And all the while, you stare at me like I am every damn star in the entire sky.

And now here I am, sitting on my bed, wrapped in an assortment of blankets and duvets, surrounded by twinkling Christmas tree lights, working through a writer’s block in my euphoric state. I just wish that you were sitting on my bed with me, wrapping me tighter than the entire combination of these blankets, kissing me in ways that paint pictures, in replacement of the words that we both don’t know how to say.