The Fry

I remember it was late,

The room loud and crowded,

But all I could see was you.

You laughed, tilted your head,

And said your hair looked like a french fry

A french fry, my darling.

I laughed with you.

Such a tiny moment,

But it stuck to me,

Like a core memory 

You looked soft, warm, golden,

Like the little fry you teased yourself about.

Even with voices spinning around us,

Everything else blurred out,

and you glowed.

There was something about the way

You noticed yourself in that moment,

Unguarded, alive,

That made my chest tighten

In that warm, impossible way.

Every curl, every strand

Felt like a spark I wanted to touch,

To thread my fingers through,

To hold close,

Like a secret only I could keep.

Even the smallest things stayed with me:

The tilt of your shoulder,

The way you leaned just a little closer

When you laughed,

Your voice dancing above the noise,

Softening the world around us.

And even now, I carry it:

Your laugh,

Your eyes lighting up,

Your hair falling just right,

As if the world paused for a second

So I could memorize you.

A joke about your hair,

That’s all it was.

A moment no one else noticed.

But it became mine.

You in the crowd,

Laughing softly,

Golden strands brushing your face,

And me falling for you quietly,

All over again,

Without you even knowing.

I can return to that night anytime,

Hear the noise fade,

Feel that warmth in my chest,

Hear that soft sound of you laughing

See that honey-light on your hair,

And remember

How utterly alight you made me feel

Just by being yourself.

-dmnd