lovers in time, that time that we were happy
It's the place where the lines blurs. Aren’t lovers people who are in love? And in love doesn’t always mean romance. Sometimes it means friends. Sometimes it means you and your pillow. Sometimes it means you and you. Sometimes it means family. And sometimes just. Strangers who lock their eyes for a moment in understands and never see each other and who might even not remember this memory. Or sometimes it’s strangers and remembering that one encounter from years ago and not meeting them again and not knowing them except their smile and that kindness they showed you
Just lovers in time in that time that they were happy and happiness can mean so many things
cobbled stones and ripped jeans
let me laugh as you grab my wrist and quirk an eyebrow, a smile tucked in the corner of your lips while you twirl me around and pull me right into
open arms
quiet the world
there’s a silence brightness that exists here, in beat of stars beneath your feet and in
the stretch of your laughter lines that reaches to the heavens
because we can, darling
push me roughly into the edge of motorcycle and grin while the sun captures you in sharp lines of light and then
dip in and kiss me right there
amongst the thousands of people
ruffled hair and afternoon sunlight creeping in
she’s laughing and you are holding her steady against you and staring at how she throws her head back, her whole body trembling with it
and wondering how is it possible to be so much in love with a person that it takes over you
and the world is alive
the stars are buzzing above us and we’re curled beside each other
hushed breath and hesistant slow hands as
we discover the lines of where we
start
this day isn’t over yet
I will pull you down to me; press smiles and laughter to your lips. Hold your neck, breathe in, my head to your shoulder and stay. Our hands intertwinted, the sunset setting in, the world asleep, the cold seeping in...
Here with you, I will stay.
confirmation again because i love you so much and you are alive and it gets too much sometimes after the spinning
*
carry me. spin me around until the world blurs away and you are the only thing that is exists in the center and then stop suddenly and take me into your small circle and in the deathly silence, let me reach over, so slowly, and touch your heart, feel it beat
.
we’re alive and here.
Perfect is...
x
slow mornings, waking up to the smell of breakfast and the sight of her, dimples peaking, and sunlight pouring in and glinting all particles in the air, like golden stars.
the back of the bus, headphones blocking all other sounds except your baby’s laughter as you watch the famiilar streets of cities streams past.
that horribly-made sweater that is your favourite colour, and has your name weaved into the back and loud family dinners.
mountain tops, air rushing against your face, sleepovers and 15 kilimeter runs in the morning.
kisses pressed on your wrists and slow car drives in an deserted highway, and exchanged letters with neibourghs that two meters away.
Dad grinning and you shrieking as he races after you, the chores left forgetten.
movie nights that end up with everyone sleeping before the end, and waking up tangled togather.
long hugs with loved people and that moment where you throw your hand in the air and everyone is screetching for no reason, and it’s the afternoon but you’re all drunk.
the music turned up on 100 and kissing your girlfriend in the back of the car, her hands threading through your hair.
and a morning text with capital letters and emojis, saying i love you in sixy-seven ways.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2FtFwAaCjrM