If only my mouth could say the things my hands do. Instead, I tell paper about how your skin looks the way a sunset should feel and that I once spent an afternoon thinking only of the freckles on your nose. You’ll never know it, but my favorite pastime is tracing the valley of your lips with my eyes and silently coming up with words worthy of your laughter, because I think your smile makes flowers grow.
m.f.e. (via attuition)