He said my eyes are your favorite color. “Brown?”, I questioned puzzled. No, he smiled as he pushed my hair out of my face. Your eyes are the color of whiskey and copper against honey. Hazelnuts and gingerbread like the feeling of coming inside from the harsh winter winds to be wrapped up in blanket on the couch talking about our day. The color of cinnamon, ginger and cassia that make you feel like you’re drunk on a Sunday. The color of finding a piece of home no matter what city I’m in. As he grabbed me so close to him that all our secrets could speak to each other, he whispered “Brown eyes were never my favorite  until I saw yours”

Love,