Her Text

It came out of the softest blue,
A simple line—but sharp and true.
“Dinner tonight? Just you and me?”
And suddenly, I couldn’t breathe.

You rarely plan—you’re steady, slow,
But this time, you let your wanting show.
And in that ask, I felt the flame—
Desire dressed in your sweet name.

I smiled like I had something to hide,
The kind of grin you can’t confide.
My chest lit up, my pulse ran wild—
You’d chosen me—no work, no child.

I pictured us across a plate,
Your knees near mine, the quiet weight.
A glance, a brush, a smirk, a tease—
The kind of want that doesn’t freeze.

I rushed through tasks, the hours crawled,
The thought of you—untamed, uncalled.
And somewhere deep, my mind slipped free—
To later on, just you and me.

Not just the food, not just the wine,
But where your skin would meet with mine.
The slow undress, the dim-lit air,
The way you pull me everywhere.

So much in one small, glowing text—
A dinner date, a body next.
The thrill of love that still can spark
A blaze from something soft and dark.

And when we met, and you leaned in,
The night had barely yet begin.
But I already knew the truth:
You still choose me—and I want you too.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.