blushing, hesitance, flirtation.
curled up, cigarette in hand outside his apartment building, talking philosophy and listening to the sounds of errant drunk college students setting off fireworks in the distance. we're slipping sideways glances and testing the boundaries of one of my most longstanding friendships, experimenting with the inflection and interplay of words and smiles. he still reminds me of a boy, and yet i long to kiss him again the same way i did when i first met him, imagining the hush of violet lips and the tenderness of his still innocent love. his kiss did turn out to be just the way i'd imagined it, after all.
i know these are only the errant musings of a lonely girl, but he really is the person who provides me with comfort. we provide each other equally, with comfort. i know that comfort isn't love, but some nights i like to pretend it could be.
i'm starting to feel like i would love nothing more, to be honest.