Please reblog if you are a girl and have ever been made to feel ashamed of one or more of these things (wanting to prove a point to some asshole):
-your clothing choice
-your amount of make up
-not having sex
-having your period
-not appreciating catcalls
I don’t know how to tell you that you touch more than my skin. That every time you ask to know something, there is a flutter in my chest. You kissed me again, and again, and again, and I love that it’s never just once. I love that you linger against my lips and when I open my eyes to catch my breath, you’re still there, watching me.
You wrap yourself around me like you might be able to hold me together. You don’t ask for much, but you offer, instead. I am waiting to give you so much, when you reach for my hand. I won’t pick and pry at your secrets, because I want you to be comfortable in the way that I have found myself losing my clothes around you; the way you like my body, it makes me want to. I like that you don’t shrug away from my (constant) touch— I hope you never do.
I am here. I like it here. I’d like to stay here.