seasons

10: supine

Song: Four Walls by Broods

Sicily started staying over a lot during the winter of our senior year. Her dads didn't mind; I guess they really trusted me. 

We had been dating a little over a year but everything still felt new.

She was the fire against my skin and the nip of teeth against my bottom lip.

She slept in my t-shirts, pressed against me.

It was bliss; her hands on my skin and her hair a pale mane of waves causing the light of the moon to dance atop the blue of my ceiling.

I couldn't get enough of her.

I knew I loved every fiber of her being, everything little piece there was, no matter how broken or complete.

I loved how she would steal my beanies and replace them with sloppy, knitted version she tried so hard to make with hands like a child's.

I loved how she would braid the sides of my hair, just to wind her fingers in the curls and pull me close to press her lips against my own.

I loved how she woke me up in the morning, with a peck on each cheek. 

I love how she would curl into my body under the pillow forts we made and refuse to fall asleep until I told her a pun.

I loved how she wasn't just a pretty face; I loved how she cracked jokes and loved to classify the flowers she placed around my room.

I loved how she had a breathy, unflattering laugh that made her clamp her eyes shut and wrinkle her nose as she leaned forward to breathe.

I loved how she accepted my failures but always reminded me that I was better than my past.

I loved how she hung fairy lights and iridescent ribbons the color of dawn from my ceiling, telling me the dark is too lonely.

She was a boat amid the tumultuous waves of life.

Everything was perfect.

Until everything wasn't.

I still blame myself.

I should've looked both ways; I didn't see the car.

Neither did she.