This Is A Dream That Keeps Me Up At Night - Tumblr Posts

Hi hello can I know about your dream date to the art museum?

We’re swimming in a Van Gogh daydream, in colors and acrylics and tear-stained canvases. All is still as we stroll through each room, hand in hand, in awe of the art as the art admires us.

The cuff of his navy blazer tickles the roadmap of my veins. A threadbare camera strap hangs languidly from his neck. I’m wearing my favorite burgundy combat boots, the ones with scuffed soles and frayed laces. He’s wearing a pair of battered Brogues, cognac and patent leather and a little worn around the toes. His footsteps reverberate off the walls, across my ribcage, through my veins.

After we’ve seen all there is to see indoors, we sit in the gardens and sketch the sculptures lining the walls. He uses the charcoal stub he always carries around in his pocket to capture the perpetual smile of an elegant stone statue. The day is sunny, sweet, and slow. Gritty saccharine and sticky honey melting down the slope of my shoulder blades. It’s not quite summer, but the season is near. The air is warm, but not quite parched. His lips are chapped, but taste like sugar.

We leave the museum, and he takes me to the park across the street. I packed a small picnic in my bag - cherries, strawberries, saltine crackers, cheese, a baguette from the baker’s, a bottle of San Pellegrino and a tin can full of the chocolate chip cookies I baked the other day for two minutes too long.

We’re living in a Monet reverie, in pastels and brushstrokes and blushing waterlilies.

And everything - his hands, his lips, his lazy grin - is bliss.