my body tells me no, but i won't stop, cause i want more

[two hundred, seventy-seven]

There is something in the way he moves, and knows exactly when to kiss my forehead or squeeze tighters. There is something about his being against mine, while we sit and be together. There is something about his smile when I realise that he's thinking about me, or when he realises that I'm thinking about him. There's something about the wrinkles beside his eyes when he smiles, and the way his eyes are so deep and even I can see that. There's something in the way he shows the way he needs to hold my hand, when we cross streets or are walking, or anytime, because he keeps me safe. There's something in the way that he talks to me, says my name, that rustles my being, that ignites the feeling of wantedness. There's something silly about the way he smirks when he's done something good, and jokes all the time, and sings in a high falsetto and blushes afterwords, after he jumps onto a bed and looks at me, waiting for me to in turn jump as well. There's something about being held down that, although it scares me, keeps me here. There is something about those three squeezes that keeps me yearning, looking, reaching for his hand, for him, yet again.

focus: him..

love,

Jess :]