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02/23/2024
Puderperle
24 Reviews
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Puderperle
Top Review
12
Untouched touched
I can remember the exact moment when I met you for the first time. As if it was only yesterday. You were introduced to us as a new colleague. I wasn't prepared for it. I was prepared for a new colleague, but not for the effect you had on me.
All the impressions came flooding in over the next few days, so many names and work processes. All the hustle and bustle was a good disguise for me. So you couldn't see that I was watching you. Quite unabashedly.
You could never remember my name, I said it to you five times. Whenever we had fleeting contact. I never held that against you. You're far too charming for that. Besides, you have little dimples in your cheeks when you get embarrassed. So ask me my name a thousand more times. I'll never get tired of telling you.
I find myself creating reasons to stay close to you.
Every time I make eye contact with your blackcurrant eyes, my heart stops for a moment and your smile moves mountains. Or makes it rain coriander seeds. Yes, strange things happen in your presence.
Your strength. It's enormous. You enter the room and you fill every corner with a presence that puts robbers to flight. Probably because you're made of oud wood.
You once mentioned that winter is your time. That's definitely the case. Your cheeks have never been rosier. Knitted sweaters with strong saffron threads keep you warm and give your surroundings a pleasant sillage. You defy the cold and melt icebergs. Is this due to the oriental touch? The fire of the desert glows inside you.
Unfortunately, your name wasn't on my Secret Santa list. God had not heard my prayer. You politely smiled away the old snowman-scented candle so as not to offend Günther.
I, on the other hand, would have given you the world. Or a horse, so we wouldn't have to steal it first. That would save us time and we could leave straight away. You probably can't do anything with stars, you're too tough. You'd pluck them from the sky yourself. Without a ladder. You don't need a man for that.
The scent of your hair hypnotizes me even at a distance. How do you think it feels? No. I am a man of decency and respect. I will not touch you. Except... there are no limits to my thoughts. And in my imagination, I slowly take two steps closer, smell your hair... very delicately, musk and vanilla...
"Is everything all right?"
Caught red-faced, I don't dare look you in the eye. Was I staring? Did you buy my stammered white lie about looking for the stapler? I doubt it was in your hair.
No. I'm not a stalker. I never will be. Allow me to express my sincere admiration for the beauty of your character. For the fact that your open laughter is captivating. And allow me to pay you the compliment you've probably never heard before: Your brain is sexy.
The combination of cleverness and healthy self-confidence make it.
You can be cute when you want to be. But you'd rather leave the job to other colleagues. An assertive businesswoman who also feels comfortable in a wine-red evening dress, that's more likely to be you. Nevertheless, you don't take a brute approach, but retain your femininity with a rose in your hand. Patchouli grounds you quietly in the background.
I think leather jackets would suit you very well, by the way.
You are my insider tip. Would I tell my friends about you? For God's sake, never. They would permanently block my view of you with their inquisitive minds. Too much publicity doesn't help your character either. Imagine everyone looking for the stapler!
Am I weird if I say I look forward to every Monday morning and am already mourning on Friday? Every day with you is a precious gift, yes I'm not exaggerating. Knowing you are close to me is pure bliss.
Will I send the letter to you? Heavens no. Although - I'm sure you'd remember my name. But no. I decide against it and prefer to remain your most loyal admirer in secret. You're the true icon for me. You make it hard not to love you.
P.s. The red Monday rose on your keyboard is mine.
Etienne A.
All the impressions came flooding in over the next few days, so many names and work processes. All the hustle and bustle was a good disguise for me. So you couldn't see that I was watching you. Quite unabashedly.
You could never remember my name, I said it to you five times. Whenever we had fleeting contact. I never held that against you. You're far too charming for that. Besides, you have little dimples in your cheeks when you get embarrassed. So ask me my name a thousand more times. I'll never get tired of telling you.
I find myself creating reasons to stay close to you.
Every time I make eye contact with your blackcurrant eyes, my heart stops for a moment and your smile moves mountains. Or makes it rain coriander seeds. Yes, strange things happen in your presence.
Your strength. It's enormous. You enter the room and you fill every corner with a presence that puts robbers to flight. Probably because you're made of oud wood.
You once mentioned that winter is your time. That's definitely the case. Your cheeks have never been rosier. Knitted sweaters with strong saffron threads keep you warm and give your surroundings a pleasant sillage. You defy the cold and melt icebergs. Is this due to the oriental touch? The fire of the desert glows inside you.
Unfortunately, your name wasn't on my Secret Santa list. God had not heard my prayer. You politely smiled away the old snowman-scented candle so as not to offend Günther.
I, on the other hand, would have given you the world. Or a horse, so we wouldn't have to steal it first. That would save us time and we could leave straight away. You probably can't do anything with stars, you're too tough. You'd pluck them from the sky yourself. Without a ladder. You don't need a man for that.
The scent of your hair hypnotizes me even at a distance. How do you think it feels? No. I am a man of decency and respect. I will not touch you. Except... there are no limits to my thoughts. And in my imagination, I slowly take two steps closer, smell your hair... very delicately, musk and vanilla...
"Is everything all right?"
Caught red-faced, I don't dare look you in the eye. Was I staring? Did you buy my stammered white lie about looking for the stapler? I doubt it was in your hair.
No. I'm not a stalker. I never will be. Allow me to express my sincere admiration for the beauty of your character. For the fact that your open laughter is captivating. And allow me to pay you the compliment you've probably never heard before: Your brain is sexy.
The combination of cleverness and healthy self-confidence make it.
You can be cute when you want to be. But you'd rather leave the job to other colleagues. An assertive businesswoman who also feels comfortable in a wine-red evening dress, that's more likely to be you. Nevertheless, you don't take a brute approach, but retain your femininity with a rose in your hand. Patchouli grounds you quietly in the background.
I think leather jackets would suit you very well, by the way.
You are my insider tip. Would I tell my friends about you? For God's sake, never. They would permanently block my view of you with their inquisitive minds. Too much publicity doesn't help your character either. Imagine everyone looking for the stapler!
Am I weird if I say I look forward to every Monday morning and am already mourning on Friday? Every day with you is a precious gift, yes I'm not exaggerating. Knowing you are close to me is pure bliss.
Will I send the letter to you? Heavens no. Although - I'm sure you'd remember my name. But no. I decide against it and prefer to remain your most loyal admirer in secret. You're the true icon for me. You make it hard not to love you.
P.s. The red Monday rose on your keyboard is mine.
Etienne A.
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