...

Before we get old

I want to live in your arms

entirely soaked under your folds.

While you breath the oxygen,

I inhale your fragrance

to keep my lungs crowded

because I want my love directed

only towards your soul.

I want your beats

to be my orchestra

where my strings vibrate

under the influence of your tunes.

Before we get old

I want to make you learn

that love is not an obssession

but a dedication in submission to one's soul.

...

before we get old

let’s enjoy being young

doing stupid things afterschool and

laughing at how ugly our laughs sound

some days we’ll argue

and fight just to make up after

let’s run away from some things, but not everything

even if we’re young

we can’t grow up like that

why don’t we sit in ugly cars during rainy days and

have conversations about people and things

that make us feel alive

let’s talk about crushes and how love really fucking sucks

because that’s the kind of thing you worry about

at this age

before we get old

let’s learn what living means

i wanna grow old with you

but why don’t we grow up together first?

Before we get old

let's spend the day together, just you and I

let's picnic on a hilltop with french baguettes and blueberry pie

let's run through dew-kissed strawberry fields and dance in the summer rain

let's join a parade at a funfair with candy floss and carnival games

let's lie on golden dunes of sand and skinny dip in a moonlit sea

let's regale in tales of youth and school holidays that went on endlessly

Before we get old

let's spend one last day, just you and me.

“Before we get old, or older,” Tory said impulsively. She dumped in the last bit of chocolate chips to the batter. They hit the side of the glass bowl, clinking the edges. Without thinking, she tossed the bag high in the air and let is drift on top of the eggs.

“Yeah?” Komika stood to the side, about to measure out a teaspoon of vanilla extract. She would add two though, Tory knew. It tasted better that way. Tory didn’t know how Komika was wearing loose black jeans and a white shirt, which was impeccably clean. They had been baking for the school bake sale all day. Brownies, gingersnaps, and now mint - chocolate chip cookies.

Tory glanced at Komika. Same girl from grade 2. Straight jet black hair she was jealous of, slightly slanted smile, eyes that laughed at every joke, no matter how bad it was. And right now, a disapproving look on her face as she studied the empty chocolate bag on the egg carton. Komika grabbed a chocolate chip off the table and tossed it up. Tory ducked and caught it in her mouth neatly. Kimoka’s mouth bloomed into a smile and she slipped another one into her own mouth.

“Yeah,” Komika repeated herself. “What?”

Tory didn’t know what she was doing, but at the same time it felt like an instinct. Natural. She passed the table in a few strides and took the vanilla out of Komika’s hands. Set it down on the counter and in one fluid moment, kissed her.

Gently. Tory knew she could be ruining the friendship with each heartbeat that passed, so she savoured the taste of chocolate on her lips, etched that moment into her soul, and then pulled back. She met Komika’s eyes. They were startled, breathtaking, and almost hopeful. Tory felt a hand on the back of her head and Komika leaned in, kissing her. Kissing her. Tory grabbed Komika’s back, holding them together. It felt as fast as a blink, but also enough for eternity. Was that possible? Something so instantaneous could feel like everything? Tory supposed so.

“What?” Komika teased when they pulled back, still wrapped in each other’s arms. Tory took a moment to compose herself, struggling for words and air. Resisting the urge to kiss Komika again.

“No, I just, well, I wanted to kiss you,” Tory breathes. “I want to kiss you. Before we get any older.”