To You

To you, I’ll be a captivating flower that has not yet bloomed, full of promise, a captivating tease.

To you, I’ll open. I’ll crack like a piece of firewood, ready to be set ablaze. The things that make my heart race, how your cologne drives my mind into a frenzy.

To you, I’ll be beautiful. You’ll become a carefree child again, alive with smiles and laughs when you’re with me, and I will do the same for you.

I’ll come to be a new being to you, the object of your heart’s affection, a cheesy shining beacon coming closer with every backstroke through the ocean.

To you, I will give my world. It will all become yours, in its entirety. You can have the vibrant, lush springtime grass: we can stroll in it together in our moments, as you grasp my hand in yours, as my eyes close when I lean over to kiss your cheek. You can have the tempestuous storms that come when you anger, and when I yell; you can have the subsequent rainbow, as well, that accompanies the passing of the storm, when you try to win me over with your silly dances and goofy grin. And when I look at your hair as you compliment the color of my dark eyes, I can’t help but smile; you catch this moment of weakness, laugh, grab me and force a kiss on my lips, and the sun comes out again. You can have the sun, too, in all of its brilliant, glorious intensity.

To you, I will play my song. I will be the quiet strings, the emotional woodwinds, the explosive brass. You are the strict percussion, the iron-fisted snare, the strong timpani, the backbone of the orchestra. I will lay beside you on your couch, or sit next to you at our favorite restaurant, looking at you with the deepest adoration; you will wrap your arm around me as I put my head on your strong chest, and I will hear your thunderous, pounding heartbeat beginning to slow.

To you, the color will begin to fade out of our beautiful blue sky. It will all become a mere silhouette of what it once was. The flower that had opened up to your sunlight, that had thrived so beautifully, will begin to wilt. The highs will not be as high, the lows will deepen until they are merely dried up rivers, missing the cool and powerful waters that used to run so rambunctiously. Your touch will start to lose the fiery spark it once had as it held me down, as it ran through my hair, as it reassured me that everything would be okay in time.