What’s it feel like to know that you don’t have nearly enough time to fall in love as hard as you think you will? How does it feel when you wish you could feel his lips on yours now, instead of waiting as you know you must? What’s it like to know that when you finally reach heaven, finally cross all the bridges, that you only have one summer to be young and foolish together?
It feels like this. Sweet and warm like sun tea, salty and deep like sweat, sour like lemons squeezed into a glass and bitter like coffee on the burner too long. The constant fear of boredom and sanity looms over you, but you’re far too crazy to notice.
You begin to crave shorts hanging low on your hips and shades covering your eyes, even though you’ve only just begun to dig out your jeans again. What was once your favourite season is another obstacle on the trail toward bliss.
Every conversation is a charge at a glass door, wanting it to shatter so badly. Every word, every wait for a response is a risk because you don’t know if he’s going to be a man of his word…or simply just move on and treat it like a lost cause.
The mystery is the magic.
Bring me back the summer, bring me back the sunscreen and sandals strapped up my ankles. Let me unbutton his shirts just past the collarbone and linger in his arms, although it is far too hot for contact.
Let time speed up for me, just this once.
It feels like this. Sweet and warm like sun tea, salty and deep like sweat, sour like lemons squeezed into a glass and bitter like coffee on the burner too long. The constant fear of boredom and sanity looms over you, but you’re far too crazy to notice.
You begin to crave shorts hanging low on your hips and shades covering your eyes, even though you’ve only just begun to dig out your jeans again. What was once your favourite season is another obstacle on the trail toward bliss.
Every conversation is a charge at a glass door, wanting it to shatter so badly. Every word, every wait for a response is a risk because you don’t know if he’s going to be a man of his word…or simply just move on and treat it like a lost cause.
The mystery is the magic.
Bring me back the summer, bring me back the sunscreen and sandals strapped up my ankles. Let me unbutton his shirts just past the collarbone and linger in his arms, although it is far too hot for contact.
Let time speed up for me, just this once.
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