it’s the little things
they always say
like how you listen more
than you ever have before
or how you stopped
opening my car door
like how you squeeze
me tighter in our hugs
or how you don’t answer
me just “because”
like how you always try
to steal a kiss
or how all our talks
keep ending in conflict
like how your eyes smile
whenever you see me
or how your words and
actions tend to disagree
It’s the little things
that keep me here
but it’s also why
I might disappear.
the sound of my dad’s guitar playing his favorite chords the typing of my mom’s fingers going through family records the smell of the ceramics studio full of the kiln, dust and glaze the running home
I cant remember the last photo i took maybe it was a mountain maybe my niece maybe myself maybe you looking away no matter what it was it’s the last thing my lense has seen which means it means everyt
We're here through thick and thin like letting me borrow a bobby pin, or confessions in Denny's at 3 am. Y'all always spoil me with pointless pacts and share my love for artifacts. I never would have