We were sitting on his couch. My first time at his apartment, and the first time we were ever alone together. Unlike most hormonal teenagers, we didn't spend the whole time tearing away at eachothers clothes, exposing virgin flesh and uncharted territories. We were sitting, facing eachother. Our cheeks touching, our hands locked together. We were enhaling eachother, breathing in as much of the moment as we could. The mix cd I made was playing, but it didn't matter to me. All i could think was how perfect the moment was. How intensly I was feeling this, how happy I was. How great he was. And in that intimate silence, he said it. "I love you." It was the first time, but it felt like we'd been saying it for years. After that, I couldnt get enough of it. Love is like a drug, and those words were intoxicating to me. And even if our love changed, and not in the way I would have liked it to, that night, that moment in time will always be special to me. I don't know if I believe in his love for me now, but I did then, and I wouldn't change that minute for any thing. In my euphoric state, i couldn't remember for the life of me what song was playing. I dont know why it's so important to me to know. He knew though. And now, whenever I hear this song, I'm taken back to the extrordinary moment, and I'm grateful that I have that.
It is yet to be determined, but the air is thick, & my hope is feeling worn. I'm missing home, & I'm glad you're not a part of this, there are parts of me that will be missed. And the phone is always dead to me, so I can't tell you the temperature is dropping & it feels like
it is colder than it ought to be in March & I still have a day or two ahead of me till I'll be heading home, into your arms again. And the people here are asking after you. It doesn't make it easier. It doeasn't make it easier to be away.
I'd like to hire a plane. I'd see you in the morning, when the day is fresh. I'm coming home again. It's warmer where you're waiting. It feels more like July. Ther's pillows in their cases & one of those is mine. And you wrote the words I love you, & sprayed it with perfume. It is better than the fire is to heat this lonely room. It is warmer where you're waiting It feels more like July.