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.