The espresso machine whirled over our voices making it impossible to use our words effectively.He was beautiful, yes beautiful.
His facial hair curled up to perfection personified with a smile that made my soul thankful. He was a part of me.
We sat beside the window that reflected the grey beauty of the rain through the middle of the room. I was calm, with my eyes intensely fixated on his hands as they held mine.
Worries had no place here, within and without I was satisfied.He was mystic in ways and his words were perfectly composed, composed for me.
I fell in love with a writer who used his thoughts in making love to my soul, with intricate words...He gave me more.
