Six Weeks In
His dark dark eyes
Their color lying somewhere
Between chocolate
And roasted coffee beans
Examine me for details
With such curiosity and kindness
That no shred
Of self consciousness remains
I love that left cheek dimple
That materializes with his smile
And how his kisses
Leave a lingering impression
On my lips
And memory
Another man, another time. It had not yet sunk in that this fellow had numerous issues, chief among them drinking too much and anger, the anger exascerbated by the alcohol. I was flattered by him telling me I was a terrific writer. Since he taught writing classes at the college level it was nice to have that validation from a professional. What is still unbelievable to me is that I gave him a second chance a couple of years later. Clearly I'm an idiot.
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