bilingual my ass. you’re either heterolingual or homolingual
I wish I didn’t have to go to work and I lived with you. I would type and drink Hennessy until I passed out, not from the number of drinks but from utter exhaustion that only dawn can bare. If I had a porch or a balcony, I would sit on it with only the moon to illuminate words into existence. I would buy a pack of cigarets and have it empty by 3am, like shaking hands with an old friend who I’ve invited to spend the night. In the morning you would wake me up with coffee and the warm glow of your gaze. You’re wearing my buttoned up flannel, the shades of charcoal and graphite sit naturally on your coffee cream skin, the way the moon bathes in a sea of onyx. The Civil Wars softly fill the apartment air along with the amplified sounds of a busy street in Dallas. I know you don’t like coffee but you make it for me anyway, two spoonfuls of sugar and a dab of hazelnut milk, the way you always do and in exchange I repay you with a kiss. The nectar from your lips is my favorite taste of breakfast. “Oh my god, I have to tell you what happened!” The words ignite from your peony petal lips and your eyes blossom as you tell me about a series you’ve been addicted to on Netflix. I find it difficult not to smile coyly and the excitement that’s spouting from your tone.
Hopefully I can finish this by next spring.
Would you guys like to read a small excerpt from the book I’m writing?
Too bad, I’m gonna post it anyway lol.