the simple pleasure of being able to see someone's toes

I want you here to speak quietly to me, and to watch foreign films that we cannot understand because our eyes are not on the subtitles. I do not think that it is too much to ask for, simplicity, perhaps happiness. Just because I so miss your arms, I do not want you to come half-heartedly back.

It’s beginning to really feel like fall here in Brooklyn, the smell of rusty, fallen leaves breaking down consumes the air, fills this room through the cracked window. You’re missing autumn, I wonder if that has occurred to you yet. It doesn’t bother you enough to make you come running here, to wrap me up and dim the lights (not that I blame you, I’m just giving you a hard time). I’d love to grab your hand and shout “Let’s go! Let’s go!” Or maybe not, and just hold onto you for a little while. it is so easy to miss feeling you. I hate the way the feelings, the memories of them, fade the longer that you’re gone. I wonder when I will see you again, wonder how I’ll keep myself quietly in line when I do. Maybe I’ll surprise you, could I?

• This Is News: Brit Brit Lip-Synchs | Dlisted