22nd
i thought i held you.
you’ve been gone for seven days and already i’ve finished steinbeck and haddon. i listened to jenny lewis and wilco like you told me to and still can’t get into it. i hear all the voices in the background during every call, while my line only echoes that fucking mix you made me before you left. i’ll probably end up loving it.
when you come home, i want you to walk through the door smelling like road trips and jack daniels. turn up the speakers and play me my favourite old crow medicine show record while i’m still sleeping. climb onto the bed and brush your lips against my neck as you trail your fingers across my cheek and tell me you thought of me while driving through the alps and standing in line for the eye. to the sounds of ketch socor’s flawless vocals echoing through the room, i will kiss you.
