Vivid.

It was that second night. When we were so desperate just to touch each other that we ran out of the building, searching for somewhere to be together. Pushing each other into the bushes and kissing hard and laughing and just pushing closer closer.

And being in the open air with you. How it was so cold on that December night but we didn't care, we just kept stripping each other so we could be closer closer and out in the open. How the wind kept rustling through the trees and how I was staring up looking at the stars through the lattices but then looking down to see your grinning face.

And how it felt to be afterwards, with my head against your chest and knowing there was nowhere else I'd rather be. Feeling completely soaked up in you and in that moment and being so filled of you of us of that togetherness.

It's things like this that I'm afraid of letting out and of writing about. Because this is the good stuff and if I start I won't be able to stop and now I can't stop thinking of how freeing it was to be with her that night in that place and I can't get caught up in this because then I'll drown. 

These are the good words and these are the words that scare me about writing these days. 

For the record. I can't remember a single song that played that first night but I remember the way it all sounded and it was the perfect soundtrack and god I wish I could remember those songs. The soundtrack of that night is still on an endless loop in my head.