old, old stuff

was going through the folder in my hard drive that i reserved for "recreational writing," though high school and college etc. (i.e. all the stuff i never had to submit for a grade) and i found some little things that brought back some serious memories. it's times like these that i remember why it's so important to write-- these are experiences that would have eroded into some dusty past. some good, some bad, but i'm glad to be able to say, i lived that...

I know how your hands feel over mine, and I know the calluses over your fingers, and I know the brownness of your eyes and the smallness of your mouth, and the way your lips purse together when you’re watching baseball. I know how red and puffy your face gets when you’re really exhausted, and your funny, ineloquent accent. I know the warmness of your skin and the warmness of your body. I know how it feels when your palm rests on the back of my leg, and the curve of your shoulders when you’re hunched over your desk. I know how afraid you are of getting close to me, ever since I learned how your lips feel pressed against mine, and how your nose feels pressed against mine, and how your soft, slow tongue feels pressed against mine. I know your nervous habit of running away from me when others are around and I know the tenderness of your voice, the kindness of your eyes, the quietness, the sweetness of your affection that hangs in the air—like steam from a hot shower—when we are alone in a room.

Daily Drop Cap by Jessica Hische