tell me ||

I don’t wish for small talk; not with you. I don’t want to know the weather where you are or if the deli down the street started selling your favorite New York style ham again.

I lied. I do.

but after that? stay up with me ’til the sun comes back around again and tell me about the house that built you — the one you learned the most about yourself in. tell me about the scar on your left hand and how the accident still haunts you so bad you lay awake at night. tell me about your first love. was she the good kind? the one you’d do over in a heartbeat if you ever got the chance? or did she crack your heart right open and fill it with sweet nothings and broken promises only to empty it right out again?

I don’t want to know you thoughts on the latest celebrity break-up/make-up or if you say poh-tay-toe or poh-tah-toe.

I lied. I do.

but in-between all of that? walk downtown with me hand in hand and tell me how you take your coffee. then take me to your favorite coffee joint so I can experience it for myself. tell me if you sleep with one pillow or two; side sleeper or back? tell me about the worst nightmare you had as a child and then tell me about the best dream; the one your mom still brings up when you call her.

tell me what color you feel on a Monday. is it yellow? you seem like a yellow person. I want to know your favorite song  to sing in the car, so make a playlist for me. tell me about the movie that was so sad you swore you’d never watch it again, and then curl up with me on the couch so we can watch the movie that makes you laugh so hard you’ll cry.

I want the small talk. I want the big talk. I want the everything in-between talk.

tell me everything.

and when you’re done, tell me more.

 

 

 

 

 

featured image via: Poppies

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