There is heat there. It is blooming beneath a plane of cream. Little mounds of rose spring up and a sullen pale winter is melted by a youthful red. The colour blends upon your cheeks and I laugh at your sweet hesitation. In your eyes I see a green of spring, but it is the spring on your cheeks I long for. If I jest again will I see the blossoming results of my taunts? I shower you with compliments, all meant and heartfelt.
Your lips are a soft beacon. They call for me with Cupid’s threats. At times I wonder if the interfering cherub has nothing better to do but possess you and taunt me. A valentine with promise I hold onto every pout and hopeful banter that falls from those delicate sweet kissable disasters. My eyes take note of the flush that seems to colour your lips as well.
Today you asked me a question to which I had no answer. What was it about you that I found so bewitching? But when I asked you the same you answered so eagerly.
“I loved the night in your hair, however short and unkempt. You had stars in your eyes no matter how dulled. I saw time was your master, a cruel uncaring sot, but worn harsh lines just chipped away rock to reveal your diamond soul. Everything about you was dark and an intrigue. Your mind is a cave and your words all drip of ink. You belonged in a book and I wanted to be the sole possessor of such a novel”
Now I know my answer as I write this to you. I loved the curl of your locks and how they seemed to burn just as passionately as their owner. Your eyes had entrapped me. You were soft lines and full of a grace I had never known even as a child, but your emerald gaze had an edge seen only on a battlefield. However it was not the hue of your eyes but that of your being. You were young. God, so young, and still warm with blood not chilled from the harsh winters and sharp winds I battled against over the years. You were curiosity and rebirth. I found in you surprises and growth and wonder. You were everything I could dream of; in my dark façade a single bouquet of rose.