She walks through the door with open pores.
Fresh out the shower.
Told me to give her an hour while she gets dressed.
I am stressed, no less, and I protest.
But I don’t mind.
She’s the reason why I haven’t chased my dreams even though I dream of her.
She’s the reason why my words slur.
You never hear guys talk about their toes curling, but I’ll be the first to admit that she made me do that shit the first time she drunk white wine from my wine glass.
She comes out dressed in red.
Navigates to the bed and sits down and she commences to start a conversation about what we’re doing tonight.
After a slow pause reply with ‘whatever you want. but I can offer suggestions if you’re mind isn’t made up.’
A soft touch felt on my heart as her eyes looks my way.
A grin from both of us as we decide to stay at home for the night.
So we can sit on the porch under moonlight and discuss what our dreams taste like.
Lemonade and Success