Sunday, February 17, 2013


I think it was our first date. We sat on the soft couches at the back of the restaurant. The lights were almost too-dim, but they were bright enough for me to see you smile when you arrived and I was curled up reading a book. Bright enough for you to decide that's when you wanted me most.

I didn't eat, and you got mad, but when your eyes softened while I told you about the dark inside of me, I knew we'd be alright. I didn't love you yet, but you made my heart spark a little. I knew you loved me by the way you listened so carefully to every word I wanted in ink on my skin, and to every reason why.

I got distracted by the soccer game flashing behind you, and I think that surprised you. You laughed a little, and your eyes lit up, so I came to sit next to you so we could watch together. The way your arm was always two degrees warmer than mine, drew me to you. The way all the waiters smiled around us made me wonder.

You went to the bar and so I curled up and read (The Catcher in the Rye) and when you came back, just for a moment, you smiled and watched me read. At first I didn't notice, but then I kind of liked it.

I went home with my head spinning slowly, with the way I seemed to fascinate you, the way I wanted your arm around me always, and the way you knew me better than anyone before (you saw me with a light I didn't have yet).

I think it was our first date, and I don't know if we had another one, but weeks went by and I started to fall in love. I'd catch myself watching you, and my heart would sing new songs that made me want to walk across the room and kiss you. Sometimes I actually did.

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