+ If you stay we can
figure out how long it takes.

The way you kiss me around
the wrists. Tap messages on my back. Don’t say

a word. Write to me only in French. Turn
the thermostat down to sixty and pad

to the kitchen in socks, wrapped up
in blankets like secrets. Boil a pot of water. Two

cups will do. Come back with tea. Steam will
fog between us as we wait under quilts. by:

Brett Elizabeth Jenkins, Waiting For Rain (via philo-sofia)

Aaaw, beautiful.

(via colourwars)

notes