For the twenty-three year old with the widow’s peak, and freshly shaved cheeks, currently on the other side of the crack between office door and door jam, sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. These are the moment when I am the most in love with you. That silly, childish quirkiness that tickles the grump out of my limbs and forces me to chuckle into folded arms, head down against the desk, aware that I should be writing but in all reality, I’m struggling to do so much as turn away from you.
I flirted shamelessly for three years, until timings and courage were aligned enough that we ended up somewhere other than the shop you worked in and I, carrying something other than a so-called broken laptop, was trying to make sure that you realised that it was defiantly a date before somehow loosing my footing and almost falling straight on my arse. We’ve always found it easy to laugh.
I come home to you,
not the house or the things here.
I come home to you.
I’m dipping my toe into the dVerse Poet’s Pub for the first time in a month or so. Today’s prompt had me a little stumped for a moment or two, and then my fiancee decided to pop his head around the door and act his usual way. His usual way being charming, silly and a little annoying.
Make sure to click the badge above and check out the Poets Pub for yourselves as well as the fantastic poets that frequent the bar. It’s a host of amazing prompt and amazing people. Well worth a visit.