You handed me the cup, I said thank you. But that's not what I meant. What I meant was, Do you know your hair, dark and pure, must smell of coffee? but more. Flowers, too. Or something sweet. I can't be sure. What I meant was, Your clear skin, like sunlight, brings warmth. While the night of your hair, a mystery, surrounds the coming day. What I meant was, Your sleepy eyes, they calm me. But your eyebrows -- Your eyebrows! -- They arch upwards. Like archways at an entry. An entry to a room where everything is new, but somehow familiar, so I'd never want to leave. What I meant was, one glance, my way, when I took the cup, sent heat and spark more -- way more -- than the double shot in that cup. But I couldn't say that. So next time, I'll say thank you. And bite my lip. My lower lip. On the side. While I look at those sleepy eyes. And those arched eyebrows. That seem to invite me in. And you'll know what I mean.
Reason for writing:
obvious
Birth sign: Aries
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