I closed my eyes, glass of wine in hand. I've maybe had a little too much and I don't mind.
I'm lying on a bed upside down and there's a boy sitting cross-legged on the floor playing with the ends of my hair. We're talking shit. You know that gorgeous pointless conversation when you're falling inside something. We got Nag Champa in the burner and it's gooood... we got some random track playing in the background, don't ask me what, I'm listening to him talk crap :)
He's wearing this white long sleeved shirt (the crinkled cool type) and some religious beads neither of us believe in but he looks sharp, new jeans and he smells good. Jeans over chunky shoes makes him look like a cartoon from the ankles down. Anime feet...
Not like this when we met. I can't speak to boys dude, I can't speak to HIM. Bouncing words off pub walls hoping some might meet in the middle and make some kind of sense. I directed him to my friend (cos she's like um hot and interesting and I'm um well...me). Ridiculousness inside shyness inside a little touch of crazy. Courage of the Dutch effect, slamming tequila and asking for a cigarette, he smoked too, so we kissed...a lot...and got kicked out of the pub for kissing a lot. Meandering "home" hiding in doorways, him stealing my breath every few steps and me letting him because he was slightly weird and I dug it...
...and he was sitting there, the top of my upside down head touching his right way up browline, hair to eyebrow, and he has my hair in his fingers, turning it over and over fashioning dreds talking to me about his dreams. He's going to be an artist, do graphic design, be successful and smile a lot. I grin because dreams are what make me spin constantly. Dreaming then forging, laying the plans and finally realising, getting, doing,, pinnacle, height...'cept I'll find out in a couple o' years that every moment is actually part of the dream and not the lead up to it x
Criss-cross sunstreams through our doorway shaping a design on our wall and sunkissed snoring creatures lay sublimely around. Newtown cafe mocha sits steaming by the TV (mine, he got it) and etchings on the side of the couch (his, I love them). The microwave beeps and I jump up to retrieve some croissants. I bought butter and strawberry jam because mum and me had special moments over one and the same when I was 11 and confused...now I'm eating the same food and nonethewiser about life. "cept it's a bit blissful right now...
We have a terrible house, a non existent kitchen and an outhouse for a bathroom but honey we have one hell of a Jacaranda tree at the bottom of our long cottage garden, one which should have a swing in it and sheds purple blankets in Autumn. We got fairy lights all around, best hippies on the block and we believe in "faeries" (he says he likes how I spell that). And we LOVE intensely...
We LOVE because life is hard and without the hair spinning and the heart racing and the cross legged longing stares 'twouldn't be as magical....
then how come it is...
I said to you hey I'm sitting with a glass of wine and I may have had a little too much...memories come melting back...and I don't mind...
I dream of love in it's infancy, I had it, 'twas sublime and imperfect and poor but perfect all at the same time x
I'm lying on a bed upside down and there's a boy sitting cross-legged on the floor playing with the ends of my hair. We're talking shit. You know that gorgeous pointless conversation when you're falling inside something. We got Nag Champa in the burner and it's gooood... we got some random track playing in the background, don't ask me what, I'm listening to him talk crap :)
He's wearing this white long sleeved shirt (the crinkled cool type) and some religious beads neither of us believe in but he looks sharp, new jeans and he smells good. Jeans over chunky shoes makes him look like a cartoon from the ankles down. Anime feet...
Not like this when we met. I can't speak to boys dude, I can't speak to HIM. Bouncing words off pub walls hoping some might meet in the middle and make some kind of sense. I directed him to my friend (cos she's like um hot and interesting and I'm um well...me). Ridiculousness inside shyness inside a little touch of crazy. Courage of the Dutch effect, slamming tequila and asking for a cigarette, he smoked too, so we kissed...a lot...and got kicked out of the pub for kissing a lot. Meandering "home" hiding in doorways, him stealing my breath every few steps and me letting him because he was slightly weird and I dug it...
...and he was sitting there, the top of my upside down head touching his right way up browline, hair to eyebrow, and he has my hair in his fingers, turning it over and over fashioning dreds talking to me about his dreams. He's going to be an artist, do graphic design, be successful and smile a lot. I grin because dreams are what make me spin constantly. Dreaming then forging, laying the plans and finally realising, getting, doing,, pinnacle, height...'cept I'll find out in a couple o' years that every moment is actually part of the dream and not the lead up to it x
Criss-cross sunstreams through our doorway shaping a design on our wall and sunkissed snoring creatures lay sublimely around. Newtown cafe mocha sits steaming by the TV (mine, he got it) and etchings on the side of the couch (his, I love them). The microwave beeps and I jump up to retrieve some croissants. I bought butter and strawberry jam because mum and me had special moments over one and the same when I was 11 and confused...now I'm eating the same food and nonethewiser about life. "cept it's a bit blissful right now...
We have a terrible house, a non existent kitchen and an outhouse for a bathroom but honey we have one hell of a Jacaranda tree at the bottom of our long cottage garden, one which should have a swing in it and sheds purple blankets in Autumn. We got fairy lights all around, best hippies on the block and we believe in "faeries" (he says he likes how I spell that). And we LOVE intensely...
We LOVE because life is hard and without the hair spinning and the heart racing and the cross legged longing stares 'twouldn't be as magical....
then how come it is...
I said to you hey I'm sitting with a glass of wine and I may have had a little too much...memories come melting back...and I don't mind...
I dream of love in it's infancy, I had it, 'twas sublime and imperfect and poor but perfect all at the same time x
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