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safety, comfort, love.

sometimes i remember the image of my first kiss: lying on the couch with this boy's hand tracing up and down my side, our faces so close our eyelashes touched, and eventually, so did our lips.

when i'm lying in my bed at night, alone as always, i turn on my side and try to pretend that someone's holding me. i try, but it doesn't work. it hasn't happened in so long it's as though i've forgotten what it feels like.