i like kissing you in the back of your car late at night, but i don’t want anything more than that. i don’t want sex, i don’t want a relationship. i just want you to kiss each one of my ten fingers the way you did last night, and that spot just above my collarbone, so softly it made me want to cry.
you don’t have to tell me i’m beautiful. please don’t promise me anything, even if you mean to keep them. i already know this won’t last. i don’t need you to pretend to be in love, even if you’re desperately convinced that you are. all i’ve figured out about love is that it’s so fickle. it comes and it goes, and i am queasy from it. i don’t want it. all i want is just for you to hold my hand the whole way home, to lay kisses on my closed eyelids someplace in the dark. that’s the best thing in the world you could give me.