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How Did I End Up on His Couch With My Buttons Undone
the intentions of a boy with a scar on his collarbone
His name didn’t matter, his age didn’t matter, his past troubles didn’t matter.
What mattered was his time on this earth; the way he breathed right next to me, the way his hands moved down the curve of my spine, the way his voice sounded when it was whispering into the cape of my neck, or when it was in song.
His eyes mattered; the way they gazed and could stare right through me in one glance. The way they could light up the whole night sky if they matched his smile at just the right moment, which they always did.
His smile mattered. It could send spirals of warm chills through any person willing to be awakened.
He always knew what he was doing, and I always knew what he was thinking. Maybe I thought his intentions were always clear, and maybe it seemed like I was always just a step ahead of him, but maybe it was suppose to be like that.
His thoughts seemed to run through my mind before he would say them out loud, but I never really minded because maybe thats what love is actually suppose to be like. Maybe it was knowing what he was going to say before he did.
Maybe his dreams became my inspirations. Maybe his thoughts became my spoken words. Maybe his voice became my song. Maybe his heart became my mind. Maybe his movement became my dance. Maybe his shadow became my light.
And maybe his love became anyone else’s but mine. And maybe I was actually a step behind the whole time.
Or maybe those were always just his intentions.