biting into the soft flesh of your neck and feeling the warm pulse of blood flow through the pores of your skin and getting high on the perfume pooling in the crook, it wafts into my airflow and i leave the mark there clear for everyoneus to see, maroon and purple framed by the sandy hue of your skin) I look at you. I look and you blink and you stare for a second too long but so do I and we giggle slightly because people will notice but I can't be bothered (like our guy from starbucks) I can't be bothered despite the little nagging voice in my head telling me that I shouldn't do this, but I should because it's real and this is my reality and i've wanted it for so long and it's so very real. it's very real, how you shiver slightly under my hands and it's not from the cold. how your eyes crinkle when you laugh and your lips as they suck the whipped cream on your fingers and the small sounds you make and how you clutch to my arm for warmth against the shrill autumn gusts of wind and your brows furrowing together as you draw and the strength of your words because when you say something you mean it and your sense of humor and when you get frustrated and you make the sweetest face, it destroys me more than it should but in every good sense.
(And then I see the outline of your lips in the pale darkness and I lean in, and delve into the warmth and all I can see is the red of your hair, and all I can hear is the small intakes of your breath as I sink in and taste you and all that matters is