Valentine

My Valentine

Knock, knock, knock.

I wait for you, my dear, to come to the door. Unknowing as to who is on your front step. I should have told you I was coming, that I know where you where lived. But the ever prankster in me can't resist the urge to see the look on your face after you've gone so long without seeing me. My only fear is that I will cry, I've missed you so as if you were a limb that got severed and was lost. But your no limb, you something much more vital, much more important.

The door opens and smile breaks on my face as I see you. Everything is how I remember, yet by that same token everything is different. You wear the years well, better than me, I'm still to baby faced faced for anyone to think I'm an adult. Thankfully it fits my personality. Bewildered you look at me, taking me in, watching my movements.

"You gonna let me in? Or should I leave?" I let out in my southern accent purposefully laying it on thicker onto certain words.

When you don't answer me I turn to go back to black F150, I pretend like this act doesn't bother me but it's actually eating me inside as I try to remember if you have someone in your life right now.

A smile comes to my face as I feel the familiar touch of your hand around my wrist. You pull me into your house closing the door and pressing me against the door. You touch is vibrating, shuddering as if I am an apparition that's not really here or that could disappear at any moment. I can't resist the urge to touch you, I bring my hand up an lightly touch the side if your face.

Finally you lean close to me and whisper, "what are you doing here?"

"Would you believe I'm here for you?" This causes you to push away and look in to my eyes as if you suspect me of lying. But I speak before you can question it, "I got a job here so I pulled you address of the internet and decided to come see you. But if this is a bad timing I can go?"

Your grip on me tightened in an animalistic need to be with me, you always did act out your feeling instead of telling me them. I know how you feel, we never got that part wrong. Our mistakes were entirely timing.

"Can I see your house or are you going to keep me pinned to the door?" I say in jest with a smile.

As if you just came back to your senses you let me go and back away from me a few steps allowing me to take in your appearance. Your clothes look like they could be your pajamas and I know that you go to sleep early and I silently apologize for what I have planned tonight since I plan on keeping you up all night.

I watch as you watch me enter further into your territory, my feather black and white tights and the short black leather skirt I'm wearing shows off my legs, the light purple tank top and the black steam punk vest cover my chest but allows my two tattoos above my waist show, for shoes to complete this outfit I had chosen a pair of work boots in black, Doc Martin ankle boots that were just faded enough in the leather to give them that worn look, I had to clean them to make them look like this.

I venture into your house and realize how similar our styles are, if I lived here my only addition would be a chess set and a more books. When I get inside fully I turn to him. I want to sit but I won't until he offers besides I'm not here to sit, I'm here to find out if he loves me still.

He take a step towards me and decide to speak the silence kills me, "I was wondering if you'd come out with me?"

"Where?" He responded and it almost sounded like a growl.

"A friend I work with recommended a club for me to go tonight and since she knows the doorman I'm expected to be there. I couldn't lie my way out of it and if I go alone I will have to fend off the masses."