6:09 pm
Your piano key ribcage rises and falls next to me. Your breath is the ocean's tide, rhythmic and safe. (My lungs can't stand the cold, I wheeze into your shoulder on the car ride home) You snore when you sleep, did you know that?

6:14 pm
Your heart's a garden and the Lord says not to swear but I know more than anything it's full of tulips and lilacs, the soil in the bag that sat by the garage until I was ten years old. (My heart is a window seat with hot tea, the glass is easy to break but the cushion is comforting despite its weatheredness, and the rain never gets in). I'd lay my head on your piano key ribcage and listen to your heart, just to check for failure, obviously.

6:25 pm
Your blue magnolia eyes, deeper than swimming pools, drowning like oceans, are safe havens for wanders, and my criminal eyes. (My melted sunshine eyes might burn you but they're the warmest ones your open eyes will ever meet.) When the oceans freeze over we'll go ice skating on glaciers whose blues never dream of rivaling your eyes.

6:29 pm
Your smile is starlight, constellations kissing against my lips. You are infinite galaxies colliding, all in mark time. (My smile is dandelion yellow and I am no longer a child who cannot tell the difference between a yellow weed and a morning star.) Will you take my yellow petals tenderly, will you keep my dandelion seeds safe from the wind?

6:54 pm
I always found myself unlovable until I didn't, and I thought you'd never love me until, one day, you did.