flowers

 

you make me blush, you know.

you make me fantasize about the girly, cheesy, lovey things that i pretend to hate.

you make the suppressed hopeless romantic deep inside me come to the surface, screaming to be let out.

i want to hold your hand. look at you in the red and yellow hues while you’re driving  down the road at midnight on a friday night.

i want to dance with you in the streetlight on a sidewalk to music reverberating through the alleys from a bar that i’m not old enough to get into.

i want to run my fingers through your hair. kiss your lips. your hands. your neck. your skin.

i want to bake cookies at 2am in our underwear and laugh at cheesy jokes while we drink cheap wine.

you make me want flowers, to wear dresses, to fix my hair.

i want to write you love letters. mail them to you. make you a mix tape. write you a poem. sing you a song.

i would give it all to you. anything. everything.

i would light my world on fire to keep yours lit.

 

 

 

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