bittersweet bastard.
I hate that the last memory I have of you is our last day together.
do you remember what we did?
I feel like your apartment holds the best memories of us.
since our last delightful moment was at your apartment.
my second home.
you picked me up from my house- making sure to park on the opposite side of the vacant road and acting like you were waiting for someone else. I ran out of the house with my scarf around my neck- jumping into your warm car.
I didn't know that Rhea was staring out of her window.
spending time together in your car became one of my favourite things to do with you. you drove us to have breakfast as we took the long route- listening to music, singing and dancing wildly.
you got distracted a couple of times and it made me giggle when you shouted at me to stop! yet you still kept your hand on my thigh, crawling it upwards.
breakfast was lovely. steamy drinks with whipped cream. an english breakfast with sausages, eggs, beans and burnt toast.
I still have that picture of you- it's now on my laptop. you're sat opposite me in the crimson leather booth, your mouth open in a grin as you munched your toast- whipped cream on your nose. your newly dyed black hair shining copper in the golden spotlight. your eyes focused on me and the camera.
I remember walking back to your car with my hands under your red and black flannel, my fingers skimming your broad back.
we stepped into your apartment- turning into us being domesticated and just natural. I helped you to put away your grocery shopping and as I closed the fridge, you gripped me from behind.
and kissed me which lead to us making love in your kitchen.
I spent the entire day with you without knowing the next day would be the end of our love.