Three years later, a new girl sits cross-legged on your bed.
She tastes like a different flavor of bubblegum than you are used to.
She opens up a book that you had to read in high school, and a folded picture of us falls out of chapter three.
Now there are two unfinished stories resting in her lap.
Inevitably, she asks, and you tell her.
You say: I dated her a while back.
You don’t say: Sometimes, when I’m holding you, I imagine the smell of her vanilla perfume.
You say: She was younger than me.
You don’t say: The sixteen summers in her bones warmed the eighteen winters my skin had weathered.
You say: It’s nothing now.
You don’t say: But it was everything then.
|—||Some things are better left unsaid (via dearalexandra)|
|—||Unknown (via c-oquetry)|
You know that feeling you get when you really like someone and you hold their hand for the first time? How it just feels so satisfying to know they have the same feelings for you? It feels like a sexual release. It’s such a light, timid hand hold. Like, they can let go easily if they want and you can too but you both try so hard to hold onto each other so lightly. It just feels so innocent and right. Literally one of the best feelings in the world.