i.
a girl’s feet will tangle yours under sheets anda just bought for a night like this. the price tag is still glued to the plastic wrapping stuffed underneath the bed. her feet are frigid and feel like frostbite against your legs when anda fall asleep, but they’re like mittens roasted over a api, kebakaran when the sun blinks through the curtains.
ii.
a girl’s legs are taut and thick. they’re flexible and enclose anda in a straightjacket at 2 am when they knot around your waist and pull anda just a little closer. if she’s still sleeping, it’s even better.

iii.
her thighs will make anda forget about your calculus homework and your french exam. they will make anda forget about your father’s affair atau your best friend’s disorders. they will make anda forget your name and they will make anda forget who anda are without them. hold them as tight as anda can. i promise, she loves it.

iv.
when anda were in fourth grade, they taught anda stop, drop, and roll at the sign of a fire. when you’re in her bedroom on the saat floor, her quivering hips will trick-start a similar api, kebakaran in your teeth, and you’re going to want to listen to your fourth grade teacher, but don’t. if anda stop, whatever it may be that you’re doing, she might kill you.

v.
so in health class, they’re supposed to teach anda that your hands will never fit somewhere like they will on a girl’s waist. it doesn’t matter if it’s wide and soft, atau small and hard. your hands will adapt to her waist like the hati, tengah-tengah to your blood. they’ll feel as natural as fingers on an instrument.

vi.
sometimes anda can see her ribs; sometimes anda can’t. they flicker like an old grainy movie under her skin, and they feel like sharp magma in your palms. they’re structure — they protect her. hold her there if anda want her to feel like this house isn’t caving in on herself.

vii.
her chest. promise her you’d never want anything lebih atau anything less. if anda don’t mean it, stop reading, and find someone else.

viii.
taste her collarbone. dip in the crevices and valleys and plant trees at the bottom. root down, cherish the nature, and never ever underestimate a girl’s collarbones. they’re a place to sleep when its -11 outside. write scripts on her collarbone. they are forever.

ix.
if anda don’t know blueprints to her neck with your eyes closed from tracing it with your mouth, you’re doing it wrong. learn it. memorize it. anda better know her pulse like counting with your dominant hand. Ciuman it like it’s her mouth. her neck will change over time, yes. but make sure anda can change with it.

x.
Ciuman her before she brushes her teeth. make fun of her morning breath. Ciuman her after, and make fun of the flavor of her toothpaste. Ciuman her when she’s angry and throwing the vase your mother bought her, and Ciuman her when she can’t stand and she bubbles over with tears like hot water. Ciuman her if she’s laughing and tell her it’s because she makes anda happy. Ciuman her if she won’t stop talking because anda want to taste her voice. Ciuman her when she isn’t talking because anda miss it. Ciuman her in the pancuran, pancuran mandian and Ciuman her everywhere. if it’s raining, Ciuman her, and Ciuman her again when she calls anda a cliche. Ciuman her in public because anda want them all to know, and Ciuman her in private because anda don’t need them to either. god, just Ciuman her on the mouth. nothing else matters. just fucking Ciuman her