That kinda day

It’s been that kinda day.

We’re not seeing Aye to Aye.

Sometimes I’m a low-yield nuclear bomb on the edge of detonation.

I’z talking to my lady ‘bout b’en kinda shady “‘bout where she was last night?”

Later on I’m brushing my teeth, preparing for bed. The bathroom door is pushed ajar. She peeks through the crack and sexy sez,

“Thank you. You’re such a nice person. G’nite.”

God damn it. She always does this to me.

I’m in love. She’s a mystery.