inkskinned:

“hey,” you say, upside down, head over the edge of my bed, “december is next week.”

“shit.” i’m on the floor cutting magazine pieces to put into my bullet journal i’ve only just gotten the hang of. “no it’s not.”

you show me the upside-down phone. “yeah it is.” your hair is a mess and i’m enamored with it.

i break eye contact first. come back to the topic. “gross,” i say. this year is a bunch of slow-slow-slow days stacked so high on top of each other that the months feel like lightning but the year feels like a decade. at least it’s not 2016. at least it’s not 2015. at least. it’s kinda better personally even though at this point i’m convinced the end is coming, nationally.

“remember how this time last year i was in love with that idiot?” you ask, scrolling, “oh my god. I’m so glad that ended.” you straighten up, flip over, look down at me. “did you ever get over that crush you wouldn’t give me the details about?”

i place part of my collage and make a note at the back of my throat and don’t look up. “oh yeah,” i say. it’s not lying. 

you slide off the bed, bounce down next to me. here, our knees are touching. it feels like it’s special and important and something but i also know it’s nothing. “can i know anything about them yet?” you are scrolling through your snapchat stories. in so many of them, you’re kissing my cheek. you show me one where it looks like i’m seconds from crying. it’s because of how much i want you. how much i know the kisses mean nothing. “look how drunk,” you say. “deadly.”

how am i supposed to tell you the crush is done because it’s turned fully into an honest-to-god surface-of-the-sun love. that you, here, between me and my bed, is suffocating me. that you make my heart feel like a fist is around it and slowly closing. 

“no,” i say. “it’s over. no chance of it happening”

“huh,” you say, “that’s too bad,” you’re grinning, but it’s the kind of smile i could never figure out the meaning of. “it didn’t go anywhere?”

“nah,” i say. i glue down another piece. “it’s okay.”

you look beyond happy. it’s gone before i can figure it out. “that’s too bad,” you repeat. 

you reach over and chase my hand, help me adjust the new piece so it sits just perfectly. “well,” you say. your face is so close to mine. your cheeks so pink. “at least it’s almost the new year.” i can’t stop looking at your lips. that smile is killing me. “anything could happen.” you slide your eyes to me. “absolutely anything.”