and your sing-song voice kept the fields growing thousands of poppy seed muffins in heart-shaped flower pots even when the wind was howling “don’t you dare” forget-me-nots.
Your kitten paws and cinnamon hair, that jewel encrusted, teardrop smile with the unanswerable corners on either end pointing to heaven.
My little lovely darling, if only gemstones knew how to swim.
Even a pond knows the colour of the sky, burned on its skin every morning and worn like a fresh coat of catfished lies.
Take the bandages off and wear the floaties because there are jeweled planets floating in a pond just above my skin, beautiful.
So let me wear you in that special little pocket I sewed in every single shirt that I’ve ever owned because it’s sartorially improper to fill it with things that I’ve never known.
Be the boutonnière that sees me down the aisle and whithers in my hands, and with your memory make me a better man.