Portrait of You

Love Blossoms

You always wear button-downs,
pressed and freshly dry-cleaned.

Your favorite cologne
is Lucky Number 6.
I smell it every day I pass you;
it makes my knees weak.

I recognize your voice
even when it’s down the hall;
your heavy Dominican accent
echoes through me.

Your laugh is
a maniacal-sounding chuckle,
but it’s not from an evil place.
It’s how you flirt.

I know your footsteps,
your confident, focused stride
when you come looking for me.

And when I see your smile
appearing before the rest of you,
my heart skips a beat.

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