That Kind Of Woman

I never thought the day you moved in to the apartment across from mine that you would eventually become the center of my life. I mean, I am nosey so I watched as they moved in surprisingly classy furniture, no lazy-boys or big screens. You had taste. You were simplistic.

The third morning together we stayed at your place, so when I couldn’t find my tea in your cabinets, I grabbed your shirt off the floor, rolling up the sleeves. That’s another thing I immediately was attracted to about you. You were big, burly, manly, but classy and put together. I rolled the sleeves up over the sun you had sketched on my inner wrist with markers from the previous night. 

Then I went out the door and across to my place, all covered with ivy. I got my favorite plain mug and a fresh lemon and some honey I squeezed the lemon into the mug, as well as some honey. It was as I was coming back, licking some of the honey on the rim of the cup, you snuck up and snapped the photo.