I love how your fridge always smells like honey dew.
i picture you sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor, you crack the melon onto the floor and suck out all the juices. you lick your fingers and elbows, the sound is very distinctive and it’s all so delectable that you take an ice cream scoop and empty all the fruit into your stomach. you lay on your back your stomach full the taste in your mouth a little sour. i come in to start making a pot of coffee. you stand up, sneak up behind me cooing that song you wrote me three years ago when we were first laying in your bed.
when you sing it, so soft and sweet, close into my ear. i mouth all the words.
i turn and smile, kiss the top of your eyelids and finish filling up the coffee pot.