Texting Turtles

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It's 5:23 am, Monday morning. It's pouring and the excess water draining from the roof is slapping the corridor a little too hard. Now I'm awake before I really should and it sucks to have to start this new week with these eyebags I'm staring at on the wardrobe mirror. 

I wanna text my person. I haven't seen him all weekend and I miss him so bad my toes hurt. He sent me a text late last night that I peeped at while drifting in and out of sleep. It fazed me. I had waited and waited for the reply and I'm dead ass that skeleton meme lying on the bed. Dude takes his sweet time and I love that about him. He's sweet as 12 icecreams. 

I like it slow. I told him that when he asked to be the person I share most of my life with. I like to check what someone is made of before I dive in, feet first. I'm a brittle maiden who craves love and all the good stuff that comes with it. I have done this love thing before and many are times that it's ended in tears. Not enough to drown my will to love again though. Momma didn't raise a quitter, cause it's awesome when right and healthy guys. 

I like to see how he laughs and chews and snores and drinks. I need to know if his appetite is satiable. I need to see how his layers peel, how he looks in the inner most layer, maybe it's red and I like mine kinda orange. I like it slow and he's not one to rush through things. He says he got time for stuff that's worth it, and coz he gets me, he gets me. 

I wanna text my person and tell him I can't seem to catch some sleep. I have been turning and tossing and my left arm is getting really painful. I wanna tell him how this weather sucks and I need more motivation to get up for work. 

It's 6:00, the alarm goes off and my sleep is nowhere, not even lurking. 

I wanna text my person but the urge to do so dies as promptly as it came up. I am jaded just thinking of how long his excellency will have to take to get back to me, and how little words he'll use. He'll be sorry for his boo. He'll throw in a cute thought wishing he was here with me. 

I wanna text my person but by the time I get a reply back the sun will be hot and shinning, the ground dry and almost cracking, and I'll be washed out from working. I'll have no strain of energy left in me to be sweet like he is to me or even say I miss him. 

I like it slow though, remember? He's a consistent MF. My turtle. My sugar. 

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