May 7, 2016
I don't understand what you mean when you say I'm picky. Just because I didn't want to watch Titanic over again. If you weren't being sarcastic, the irony was lost on you. You made me out to be the bad guy when I didn't want to watch it the sixth time. Each impromptu movie night we have, you pick Titanic. Six times, now. Six. I'd rather take my chances at "drawing you like my French girls" than to recite the movie I've memorized against my will one more time with you. I always ask to watch a shorter movie, because you never make it through. But you are so pretty when you are fighting sleep. Your head is heavier than it looks when it's on my shoulder again. But it gives me time to try and figure out what your scent is, exactly. Honey? Lavender? Roses? Vanilla? Maybe a sixth time wouldn't hurt.
YOU ARE READING
How Autumn Came to be
PoetryI've never understood why the third season of the year gets to have two names. Fall and Autumn. Spring only gets one name, as do summer and winter. It's always been lost on me, what made fall so different. And then I met you. You are the reason the...
