i read maps real good
a relationship is not the shortest distance between two points. it is a winding road that charts off course, stuttering in between rocks and slow sinking sand, the gasping breath of an uphill climb - but when her hand touches the bare skin of his back - it meanders along white clouds masquerading as sheep - the tips of her fingers tracing - it smooths and glistens, running as fast as saltwater breeze on sunbaked skin- the lines shaping paths that touch, bridges yet to be crossed.
