I look up at her as if she’s a deity to worship. In a way I am. I am worshiping the time we had together, preserving the moments with her that will stay in my mind. The way she made my heart fucking jump out of my chest, only to be contained by the buttons on my shirt. Honoring the times she looked at me like I was a fucking delicacy she would devour and run her tongue over every last bit.
