runaway

He and I alway had to physically touch, as if we were afraid we were going to lose each other. Me clutching a bit of his shirt, his hand around my waist, fingers rubbing elbows. I needed to feel him, we were so insecure about that. If I wasn’t in his sight and I wasn’t touching him, he would wildly turn around and search for me even if I was right behind him. We were like a stub of a barely lit candle, we weren’t going to last yet we wanted to keep burning.