Like a sun ray breaking the horizon, your touch gives hope. In the midst of winter, your delicate stare imbues me with the warmest coat.
The patience we are holding sets the soul on fire, but the game we play creates unspeakable, unknowable desire.
Now the fires burning and it makes your touch home and your words erase my mind and sends me to a paradise to which I'm prone.
Days, months, and years will pass, but none touches the fire or your beauty. Shackled and chained to your voice and yet my mind still grants you purity.
Arguments, fights, and and late nights that lead to flowers to stop the dread, but the one thing that will never change is the flower we've grown will never be dead.
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