White orchids wait on the windowsill,pleasing, pretty poppies spring from the garden below,sunflowers stretching to the sapphire sky,foxgloves finding the sunlight as your arms wrap around my waist like sweet, summer vines. Our love is blooming all around us.

Late,lost in lush, luscious love stories,darling, daring dreams that don’t want to let me go.I am barely a minute into the so called Blue Monday,and I think the world isn’t ready for how obnoxious my immovable smile will be.

The way my cheeks glow,when I know that soon,I’ll be in your arms,I am a supernova,singing your name to the soft blue sky,as the birds bother each other with their stories of the mad girl who makes a melody of her romance.

You are unknowable,unreachable as you stand before me,teaching me all the things I tried not to see,touching me with coquettish, cautious fingertips that remember to be gentle.

I build a castle from the empty capri sun cartons that gather by the bedside,and you and I watch box sets and play pretend as the day dims and becomes night.You were supposed to be the sensible one,saving me from myselfsunlight in sweet sorrow,but I spiral so much quicker when I’m by your side.I sing…