This was the first night we ever spent together, huddled in a humid apartment and absolutely deprived of sleep. I was intimated by your entire existence, but my tired eyes made it seem like I wasn’t, and I suspected that you were none the wiser. We took blurry photos of us making out and it felt like I was sixteen years old again; wide-eyed and innocent.
We fell asleep watching Bruno while drunk kids walked around outside. Suddenly, every time I’d fucked up in the past didn’t even matter anymore. Just like that, the monkey crawled off my back and walked right out the front door.
"Good riddance!" I exclaimed, half-asleep with your hair in my face. A futon had never been so comfortable.
inkskinned, “My father’s recipe for the man I should marry” (via animalist)