"Here comes the tickle monster!"
You played along with me, stopping a little bit after I asked, even though I loved it so. I love that you played with me, making me smile and laugh like the little girl I wish I still was.
You’d skip around with me, run, laugh, and sing like lunatics along to songs on the radio, driving recklessly in all sorts of different kinds of directions to one special destination up seven flights of aimless parking lot driving to a theatre full of red velvet seats.
And we’ll laugh some more and jump around and kick elevator buttons, kissing each other on the way down, giving people stares from crazy in love crazed eyes.
I’ll give you a nickel to wish upon as you throw it backwards into the big fountain, and I’ll wonder what you wished for, but I guess I’ll have to wait for it to come true before you tell me—if you remember that is.
We’ll cuddle and hug and kiss through the lines and all the waiting and the whole entire movie for hours and hours and hours and we’ll go back home, listening to the same old songs that make little to no sense and you’ll invite me inside and I’ll park and we’ll smell the fresh manure on your neighbor’s lawn.
We make our way through your house and onto your couch, kissing each other ever so softly—and you’ll lay your head on me and rest your eyes for a few minutes before I have to leave as we exchange I love yous and thanks for a night well spent.
I’ll walk out your door, getting things from the car that you forgot, wishing I could fall asleep in your arms once more, but we’ll leave after never enough kisses and hugs, trying to chase your cat back inside. And I’ll leave and you’ll run up to bed.
I’ll sit here wondering why it is you’re so perfect.
Wishing that I could be by your side tonight.