Us are my favorite people.
And we are searching for places.
Places that pass in a blur
As I write this
Places that are filled of spilling coke on the car seat covers-
Of the speedometer going above 120
Of requests of stop on motels that appear every 50 yards
Of alternative pop rock music slaying through the radio
Of a horrible sound of you singing along
Of my feet fluttering ahead of me
Of our heart wrenching laughter
Of kisses on my temple
Of my hand pressed against my heart
Of our arms entwined as love calls for us,
To stop the car,
To let the twigs catch fire,
To let the bonfire lead our way,
To make us cozy of the stars
To tell us of our mixed reactions to the car making grunting sounds of its refusal to move a feet forward
I feel it now,
That sound of you telling me
That we’d have to make a home out of this narrow road with no lights
That the gravels I stood on would be effectively my pillowcase
I shrugged, I wanted it, of course
You were cold, I refused to part with my jacket.
You refused to part with my most annoying childhood memories
Seriously, the prank I pulled on the aunt at five?
The marksheet I hid in your drawer.
My baby pictures. Stop there okay!
I shoved your shoulder off where it rested against mine.
You didn’t try to hide a smile.
I pulled a face at you.
You showed your teeth.
I showed my tongue.
We could’ve just stopped there.
But we didn’t.
We won’t stop.
Atleast as long as we’re us.
Us are my favourite people.