Graphic by Stephanie Liu (she/her)
touch me like I’m not a friend.
Don’t touch me on the shoulder;
or Do, as long as you mean it like
“i want you”
and not like i told a joke and you’re just stabilizing yourself while you laugh
(god, that laugh).
Don’t just hold my hand,
get nervous about your sweaty palms,
run your thumb along the back of my hand.
Don’t just hug me like
a sweet embrace, a “see you later!”
Hug me like
running your hands down my back as we separate,
waiting just a beat too long before letting go.
And text me back!
but not like
“look at this funny post i found”
Text me like
“i asked my friends about how to format this sentence”
or “i smile at my phone when there’s a notification from you.”
Text me flirtatiously,
imbue meaning in the things that don’t mean anything,
(“send me your schedule”
“are you going to the party tn?”)
text things that make me take a minute before i’m able to respond,
that make me throw my fucking phone across the room because i need a minute to recuperate.
Text me about your afternoon,
the party you went to,
the outfit you wore.
Text me about every single stupid thing you thought of that day.
Text me back because i made up an excuse to text you,
formatted it so that it looked like an accident just so i could start a conversation.
Text me back because i’m tired of trying to figure out what the way you look at me means,
because i’m tired of wanting you so badly that it feels like knives under my skin,
Text me back so i know what you’re thinking,
so i can text you knowing that you understand what i really mean when i say
“you weren’t at practice today?”
“i listened to that song you recommended”
“you’re right, the view is pretty.”