These Flashes

​… I’m seventeen, and he’s twenty three, with lashes like wings. He thinks I’m a snob, but then again he likes it. He says it’s my defense mechanism, and maybe he’s right. 

When he kisses me I forget to breathe. We’re outside my dorm room. Any minute now someone’s going to walk by. He laughs when I push him away,  “None of this looks innocent,” I flip him off and he kisses me again. Right now, he’s everything.

He’s always everything; nothing else exists. He holds my hand, I live in his eyes. He loves me.

The stars live in the ground, I say. He doesn’t believe me, so I show him. He pulls me into him. We almost fall into a ditch. People think we’re crazy. It’s beautiful.

More than beautiful, he says. He can’t stop thinking about me. We’re counting down the minutes. I can’t wait to kiss him. Five to six. “You’re going to make me break my fast,” I laugh, he hugs me. I feel it then, I’ve made him sin.

Quite sinful.

But I’ve hurt him now. He won’t look at me. I shouldn’t have done that. I need to check my temper sometimes. I poke his side. He grunts. I tickle him. He flips me off. I kiss him. He smiles. 


This is our eternity. We’ll always have forever.