Untitled 14- 50th

This is an open letter

To you, my love.

And I pray you nurture every word

As though precious dandelions:

I see you in the color blue

With its tranquility that embraces my worried habits.

I hear you in a hummingbird’s song;

Unapologetically beautiful and hypnotizing.

I smell you in the soft May air,

That carries the phantom of your perfume

To my longing lungs,

And vows to be its companion

Till death do them apart.

I taste you in the sweetest of fruits,

And the silkiest of caramel bites

That revive the memory of your gentle lips on mine.

I feel you in my scars

That mark my hideous body.

I feel you as an ever present thought that:

Regulates my heart’s temper,

My body’s shy blush,

And the eagerness of my breaths.

I sense you, my love,

In every curve of an ‘l’ and every loop of an ‘o’

In every slant of a ‘v’ and every cocoon of an ‘e’

That I pen down.

Every word that I compose

Is weighed with the thought of you.

So take loving care of those precious dandelions,

As I’m afraid mine all have withered.

Untitled 14- 50th

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