I watch as he ran his rough edged fingers, hardened over time like drying cement, through his blonde waves.
His light brown pools darting across the field of Daisy's, white, yellow and blush flooding within them.
The golden sun bouncing off his pale cheek as if it were a choreographed performance between solar and skin.
The sun setting with utter precision behind his profile, red embers engulfing the sky above us.
Our sky.
I mimic his tongues circulations of his soft pink lips, smooth and calculated, finding a slight crack of skin between my upper and bottom lip. Dried blood within.
"I don't care who or how it is you experienced your first, just as long as I'm your last"
