it's slow movements shaking my heart that bruise heavy. the drone of the ten-thousand bring all the whimpering to a hush. and shush.

*touch the pillow*

if you can stand the comfort, i'm a mile away so there isn't much distance, if you would like to be held, i'm for you.

and if i want to be touched i'll be only by you.

*we would breath in and out for minutes at a time- sharing a pocket of warm lungs* i secretly am full to the brim with adoration for the beautiful childlove we've molded out of jealousy and boredom and sex. ...it's not the kind to be afraid of. it's the kind that is a warm tiny candle burning somewhere we will least expect it. and it was snowy and there was nothing else in the house except for you and me and the honesty.