For You

*cue Kenny Latimore*

‎Dear You,

‎I have been thinking of what to write, what to say. A thousand million words beg incessantly, to be freed from the shackles of my thinking. They need to bleed, to be penned out and written simply.

‎‎Maybe it doesn't have to be perfect, maybe it does not have to conjure the seven seas a storm, it doesn't have to draw accolades from the prolific tutors of the great literature. Sometimes, the purity in it supercedes the pre meditated perfection so I decided to write this for you.

‎When it comes to you, I do not need to flip my dictionary, searching for appropriate adjectives to describe you. Your existence alone is art.

‎‎Right now, you're sat at the kitchen's counter, your hair draping down your face and I cannot help but use my eyes to stroke vivid lines of pastel palette across a large wide canvass.

‎I wonder, if God gathered the multitude of heaven and had them stare at you in awe. The way your cheeks curve up in a smile when you're rambling about your day, or is it the way you say my name that has me melting into a puddle of rosy waters.

‎‎You tell me that the world doesn't need you, that you're only a waste of space but who dare gives you that permission to say such? Have you seen the way my heart frantically beats when you look my way?

‎‎I spit out displeasure at the voices that scorned your beauty, the familiar places that were home but only hurt you. I wrestle your past as if it's anyone's fault; why should my angel be hurt?

‎‎You tell me, "I fear you're putting me on a pedestal, this is not but you fantasizing who I'm not" but how stupid you are. Oh dear, I have sworn profanity at whom I love but no, seriously, you're stupid. You're stupid to think that I am only projecting a wish rather than tell of all the tales of your beauty.

‎‎The heart you fear is too much for the world is nothing but pure magic. I never believed in fairy tales but you collided with my world and everyday, I pray for a miracle. You have blinded me with a spell I do not want to be delivered from. The elders of the village call it madness, I call it admiration.

‎‎I ask, "tell me your dream." You swoon and relapse unto the couch, then and there, I am reminded that your very being is a dream.

‎Oh great heavens! I have touched the linens of divinity! The rivers have crashed against my heart,  I do not need a boat.

‎Your eyes have allured me in trances, dances that my feet waltz to.

‎I peek at the way you brush the plants with a tenderness, the tips of your fingers like a mothering wand.

‎Is this what it's like? To be on the other side of humanity?

‎This meandering I've been doing in your soul has given me nothing but  complexities. I wage a lost battle of believing in a God, in accepting the divine but you exist, and that is enough reason!

‎‎Oh my! my! my! What a spectacular listener you are. The inclination of your ears draw whispers of confession from my lips, I don't know when I do yet I do it.

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‎I yearn for the nights you'd declutter your mind's process with me.I sigh when you call it rampant, how dare you speak so ill of yourself?

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‎I ache at the fusion of our hands behind the potter's wheel, the way my breath will itch, my fingers shaky and right there, I'd know: there's no undoing of my falling.

‎The world doesn't know of the force they're to meet. There are souls that'll sing of your praises, hearts that are yet to be touched. Think of the places you're yet to be, the experiences you're yet to experience.

‎Oh my gorgeous gorgeous you, come! I beckon that you lay with me for the time being and throw away the worries of the world. Place your hand on my beating heart and hum to the tunes of it.

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