I hold the last picture of you in my hand,
gently caressing my thumb across your face as if the glossy texture would give some extra warmth on this freezing night.

Your beauty is tantalizingly flawless; not just of your physical exterior, but also of your warming character that beholds exquisite charm.

I fell for you that one day at the fairgrounds where I failed to claim that fuzzy pink penguin for you. Somewhere between the cotton candy stand and the mirror house I got lost in the tranquility in your eyes
&
In a moment time itself stopped to witness the miracle of two racing hearts standing like statues for an eternity before I moved my lips to yours and we finally, for the first time, kissed.

The world began to move again, not that we cared or noticed, simply grinning as we held each others faces, locked in embrace...

That was the only time we had ever kissed and I know why.
But the arching of this dream across the years hasn't spent me yet; your reflection is etched into my heart deeper than any scar could ever hope to reach.

You're the sun.

So beautifully bright that I have to stare, even though it hurts horribly.

I live in Antarctica, where you only light up my world half of the time and then leave me to suffocate in darkness for months on end.



You're a deer.

Unaware of me observing your adroitness from the dark depths of this brazen bracken which conceals me.

If I make any sort of sudden movement, I know you will sprint away into the trees because you're so afraid of letting anyone get close to you.



You're a puppetmaster.

Pulling at my oh-so-vulnerable heartstrings in the most musical way while creating the most fantastic and addictive art.

Your fingers are magic to me, and their slightest movement can either plunge me into endless despair or **** me up to the most heavenly of all cloud nines.



You're a siren.

Drawing me in with your sweet song only to ultimately unravel me.

You taunt me with colorful hints of false hope, making me wonder if you're really that cruel, or if you're merely  unstable.



You're a child.

So oblivious to the obvious, yet incredibly innocent.

You brighten my day with your silly antics and sweet gestures alike, but you're too enthralled in your own little world to ever notice.



You're Doctor Jekyll.

Always changing your face from friendly to arrogant and asinine, then right back again.

Sometimes I wonder how I could love someone like Mister Hyde, until you turn into the nice guy again and remind me.



You're a weaver.

Excruciatingly twisting the threads of me into the fabric of my being, leaving little streaks of sorrow and joy.

You have shaped this tapestry in the most painful and beautiful way, and without your unknowing influence, it would surely be unrecognizable from its current battered, but unique, condition.





You're a thorny rose I keep trying to pick.



Sending me away ******, bleary-eyed, and smelling sweet.



I wish you could understand how much I need to carry you home.