"admit it. you like me."

"or maybe i like the comfort of been here, the hum of the lava lamp, the hole in the couch cushion, the way i remember what your mouth tasted like when i turned eighteen, the thud of footsteps upstairs, the bone of you, how diferent we are, the space between now and then and next, the anchors of us, how distance and time keep mediating the lust that could have kept us running onward for days."