I'm in love with the cliché.
Woke up this morning, hungover to the whiskey I bathed in last night, dipped in the scent of musk which he wore to my bed after midnight. It was pretty incredibly strange how he had gotten a grip on my thoughts cause he's been running in my mind the whole day. The way white shirt fits on his perfectly cut body and the worn out blue jeans running down a pair of well built legs, every thing about him turned me on. The very sight of his drunk eyes made my soul melt. I took deep breaths every time flashbacks of us together stopped me from paying attention to what anyone around me was saying. He made me feel like I've been sipping jack and coke all day long, even when he wasn't around. I've been so drunk off his love since we last met, so high all the while hoping I'd get to see him again. I know I've left my scent lingering on his shirt & thoughts of me on his mind as well.
I want to sit at the balconies of love filled orchids and listen to you talk, talk slow, the way your lips open and close, exactly how they do when you've got mine in between them. I want to get distracted by how you stare at me until I look away. I want to get carried away in the thoughts of how you'd sweep me off my feet and take me to places I've never been before. I want to get butterflies in my tummy thinking about how it would be when you say, 'Hi.' again.
Last night was great, it was amazing. We made love, yes it is sort of a big deal. I could have moved on to a new day, to a new night with a new man with some old wine. But, I'm in love with the cliché. I'm falling in love with the very essence of him, I would do coffee and donut dates with him until I make him mine.