July 5, 2016
You never asked to move in. You just brought your stuff over. I now have two of everything. I have to make sure I grab the other green toothbrush in the morning because I wake up before you. Your panties have taken over my sock drawer. I don't want evidence of how I found that out, but you laughed when you saw me. Twice as much hair in the shower, four times as much in the sink. (Why don't you dispose of it?) Two meals to prepare every night, one checking account. That might be the only thing we do not share. But I supposed it was okay.
You make an introvert crave company.
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...
