I see my thoughts nuzzling in your brain,
Dripping with anticipation,
Drugging the both of us simultaneously,
Organically with steady pollination.
Neither of us quite understand
How to express our fascination with this newborn flower,
So we do what we can,
With smiles here and there
And small conversation to trek the bridge between us.
Someday this may bloom if we nurture correctly,
But no single answer exists as to raise a child,
Start a fire,
Or grow a garden.
We will create our painting in the exact way we desire,
With our own brushes and canvas formed out of our skin,
With the paint from our irises.
What a beautiful feeling,
The budding of love,
With its uprise of uncertainty and swirling butterfly emotions.
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 12:07 PM UTC
I see my thoughts nuzzling in your brain,
Dripping with anticipation,
Drugging the both of us simultaneously,
Organically with steady pollination.
Neither of us quite understand
How to express our fascination with this newborn flower,
So we do what we can,
With smiles here and there
And small conversation to trek the bridge between us.
Someday this may bloom if we nurture correctly,
But no single answer exists as to raise a child,
Start a fire,
Or grow a garden.
We will create our painting in the exact way we desire,
With our own brushes and canvas formed out of our skin,
With the paint from our irises.
What a beautiful feeling,
The budding of love,
With its uprise of uncertainty and swirling butterfly emotions.
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