(no subject)
untitled and uncapitalized.
(232) // PG // Pete/Patrick.
loosely based on November 4th, 2006..
three summers ago and you were curling your toes inside a pair of gold and orange nike’s as you blinked the pacific sunset out of your eyes and you invited me into your arms, into your heart, into your space that for the time being was our space. three summers ago and i was pressing your back against the van as my own pair of sneakers twirled nervous against the pavement and my chest lingered just short of touching yours. three summers ago and you smelled like oatmeal and foot powder and youth and it drove me fucking mad because i swore i could smell that dreamlike mix forever, but three summers ago you were hesitant, difficult, and when you spoke, you stuttered, and it was always to express to me nonsensical fears of being caught, exposed for what you were, what we were. three summers ago and i pocketed your worries and replaced them with sharp hips and soft lips and words that made your heart feel like soaring. three summers ago and i gave you a hand to hold, a body to warm, a voice to whisper to or listen to or shout at when it’s just too easy to shout at yourself.
three summers ago and i showed you what it is to fly with your feet on the ground and break down with a smile on your face.
(232) // PG // Pete/Patrick.
loosely based on November 4th, 2006..
three summers ago and you were curling your toes inside a pair of gold and orange nike’s as you blinked the pacific sunset out of your eyes and you invited me into your arms, into your heart, into your space that for the time being was our space. three summers ago and i was pressing your back against the van as my own pair of sneakers twirled nervous against the pavement and my chest lingered just short of touching yours. three summers ago and you smelled like oatmeal and foot powder and youth and it drove me fucking mad because i swore i could smell that dreamlike mix forever, but three summers ago you were hesitant, difficult, and when you spoke, you stuttered, and it was always to express to me nonsensical fears of being caught, exposed for what you were, what we were. three summers ago and i pocketed your worries and replaced them with sharp hips and soft lips and words that made your heart feel like soaring. three summers ago and i gave you a hand to hold, a body to warm, a voice to whisper to or listen to or shout at when it’s just too easy to shout at yourself.
three summers ago and i showed you what it is to fly with your feet on the ground and break down with a smile on your face.