My Los Angeles bed is cold and all that runs through my mind every night is us sleeping in your warm London bed. (Actually your place is shitty and FREEZING but your presence warms up your single room flat ironically making LA seem cold.) You’re literally across the world from me and all I want is to feel your skin and lips touching mine. The last night we laid in bed before I had to fly home I tried to soak in every last detail about you from how you touch me to how you smell. Your charming Scottish accent, even laughing at how many brown little moles/freckles we have on our skin. Also, how could I forget your dark brown hair with a slightly ginger beard. Now I lay here in my slightly less shitty Los Angeles apartment, alone, cold, trying to remember exactly how that last moment felt.
10:01pm in Los Angeles
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