I can’t read her… And I wouldn’t have it any. Other. Way.
I once counted five different expressions in as many seconds. Yes, that’s the kind of thing that beckons me toward, ever forward, striving for the mystery.
She’s like a girl with no history, well, none of any consequence, it’s common sense, before me nothing existed, yet somehow I almost missed it.
Standing there in front of me, like a vision from on high. Don’t know why I was found worthy, but I’m sure she deserves me, and all I have to give, its how I live. Go with the flow until you just don’t know, then she was there, her silky hair and brown eyes, a personality so much like mine we could intertwine in moments so divine, sublime.
It was perfect, that moment I got the courage to kiss her across the table, I knew I was able, but I didn’t want to crash that coffee on the floor, but I did it, then our hands touched, soft, electric, a feeling so eccentric. Like I said, perfect.
That was it, the moment I found her, completely sober yet drunk on her eyes, her smile. Those five different expressions in as many seconds. My mystery girl.