“You wouldn’t have to chloroform me though.” You’d said-
I was telling you about this unhinged joke I’d made to my therapist on the couch in regards to kidnapping you;
I’d wanted rainy day conversations on the porch, and you.
I adjusted my legs haphazardly thrown over your lap as we both laughed.
My fingers ran through your cut hair-
Soft locks of brown curls replaced with shorter, soft strands,
You cut it but it doesn’t matter because you still make my knees weak.
I peek at you through my eyelashes when the laughter settles down,
Admiring the soft features of your face and the stubble along your jawline;
I don’t have time to memorize before your eyes flutter open to catch me-
A slow, soft smile spreading across your face at the affectionate smirk on mine.
The moment etched into my brain before soft lips met mine and I knew I was far more gone than I’d admitted.
It was a brisk walk to your car at 1AM but your presence kept me warm despite chattering teeth-
When you dropped me back off at my front door and kissed me goodnight I felt like the luckiest woman alive because-
connections like this don’t happen every day.
And while most men would’ve just said “I want to be here.”-
You were brilliant enough to say
“you wouldn’t have to chloroform me though.”
