love

he'd always loved this place. well, maybe love is a strong word, especially for a place like this smoky bar. but he liked it here. he liked the comfort of his whiskey and his book, and his always half-smoked cigar. he enjoyed overhearing the meaningless chatter of the girls clinging to the bar counter. watching the waitress clean the tables, practically twirling back and forth between the them. he liked watching her. her hair was brown, straight, long. three times a week, he came here. mondays, thursdays and saturdays. it was his second home, basically half his heart. yeah, maybe he actually did love this place. even if love is a strong word to use for a bar.

skin

if you ever asked me what i like most about you, i probably wouldn't be able to lie. it is your skin, baby. your pale, soft, sometimes reddened and blushed skin. i love the way it looks in the sun, i love the way it looks in dark. when you smile, my fingers ache to touch your cheeks, and sometimes i do. because your skin is the best thing about you. not your eyes. not your smile. not even your personality. it's your skin, baby.