no shame november

I know every inch of your body better than I know my own. I’ve memorized the taste of your tongue and the way your chest flutters when you snore, I know the smell of your J.Crew cologne that has somehow embedded itself into all of my clothes, yet I still don’t know you. For the past eight weeks I’ve woken up to the scruff of your beard sending shivers down my spine as you kiss my shoulder. But what was so simple in the beginning is not so easy anymore. We’re running out of things to say because we’re afraid of giving ourselves away fully. There’s only so many times I can say, “Come be my blanket, I need your warmth” before we both start yearning for more.

(maaaneater)