Dear Lover,
I’m going to obsess about you obsessively and talk about how our flower was clipped too soon and never got its chance to fully bloom. And the way your curls cover your eyes when your hair is wet and how it floats up into a curly cloud of adorable cuteness as it dries. If your personality had a face, it would be topped with your hair.
You sleep so effortlessly beside me, dragging me into the warmth of your body, your feet caressing my feet, your cheek nuzzling mine. The clean lines of your form make a muse, so I sketch you whenever you’re not looking, while you’re cooking crepes for breakfast, or going to fetch a robe so I won’t get cold tonight.
The breathless luckiness I feel to just be holding you, I have to memorize the shape of your eyes and the way your hands feel when they’re warm in mine. You laugh and moan at the same time with my thumbs on your back, stroking any stress away. I’d love to touch you every day, feel the music in me serenade the music in you.
I see beauty in your face when you look at me, and suddenly, I am new and whole again, accepted and appreciated as a whole again, naked and clothed at once, for you. I blush, caught in your gaze, yet there is no place I’d rather be than here, with you, in the present, obsessing about you obsessively. Watching your heart bloom, watering our flower, I feel love budding here, clipped too soon.