Cinderfella

He is walking towards my house. The leaves on the huge maple tree in my front yard are feeling the effects of autumn and showering him with gold. He has his hands in his pockets. He looks through the front window of my house, eager to see me before actually seeing me, if you know what I mean. Although he doesn't have his guitar slung on his back, I know he has a scratched up guitar pick in his pocket. It's his lucky charm. He doesn't have any books with him, but all of the words to his favourites are tumbling through his mind.

I know these things because he's not just my "boyfriend". Yuck, I hate that problematic word. I don't like the words "soulmate" or "lover" either. Let's just go with... the person I am in love with who knows me better than anyone else ever could.

He walks up to my front door. He rings the doorbell. I know he's dancing on the front step because he's cold and wants to come in where it's warm. He's like a lizard; he loves to soak up heat. I know he does this thing where he puckers his lips a few times, like he's stretching his lips and practicing for kissing. He swears its just a nervous twitch- his way of keeping his opinions to himself- but I think he might have been a chronic "mirror kisser" and can't get over the habit of practicing kissing. Although, he doesn't need to practice kissing anymore... since he has me. And I have him.

Then I wake up and I have a headache because my room is stuffy and it's seven-oh-six on a Monday morning.

And I'm still as single as a single piece of cheese on a single slice of bread.

"In dreams you will lose your heartache..."

Theme oo1 | Theme 002 | A Theme I Couldn't Resist