First Drafts
- Him -
When I hear his name, I think of his perfume stuck on the sheets wrapped around us, of our clothes scattered all over floor, of a hard body and a soft heart.
I think of the quiet nights with nothing but the whispers of his breath, and the beating of our hearts.
I think of the boy who adored poetry, and who spoke those words during moments when you least expect them.
Even until now, sometimes I would wake up and I would remember the way his hair glinted under the glow of the morning sun that seeped through the window.
I miss the way my hand would reach out and hold him closer, and how he would stir and hold me tighter, safe inside his arms.