joel miller

You always liked to sleep as close to him as possible. It just felt safe. You shared a sleeping bag on the road and a bed in Jackson too. You liked to nap while leaning on him, your head on his chest or his thighs, your hair tangled around his fingers. But nowadays he has all these thoughts that keep haunting him, that make him want to press his thumb against your lips and smell your hair. Everything has changed. “Sleep in your own bed tonight, Pumpkin.” He says softly while taking off his boots.