Let Down Your Hair

I live three floors above the dryer duct and the smell of warm clothes tumbling, comes through my open window when I work. I welcome the scent, thinking I am a bit warmer, a bit closer to the concept of “home” when it joins me.
Can you imagine me, high up in my tower with dirty fingers and straight lips? My copper hair weaves itself around my face, defying attempts to tame it. Weak backed and wicked minded, it’s been almost two weeks and I’m beginning to stalk him like prey. He leans on moons out of my orbit and tells me he’s tried it all before. He likes to say, “Love is made of greater things.” And with a humble heart, I agree, but the beast within me growls, hungry.
It’s been almost two weeks and I’m beginning to stalk him like prey.