And to list everything that wasn't mine but I wanted them to be—
The ray of sun that touches your skin,
your breaths shared with min
the flowers in your pocket.
To be the centre of your attention in every mundane instance—
like a favourite one who can't be replaced.
Your smile—
those corners crinkling beside your sugar dappled eyes,
only when they fall upon me.
To be your first thought waking up in the morning when I'm far away—
And oh to be your very first sight of your mornings. The dramatic scene of mess and beauty entangled in one, by your side.
To occupy a larger than necessary space in your heart than the many ones living in it.
The warmth of your presence when I'm alone.
Your lips on passages of my skin that have ever been cold.
Your heart— to have you willingly submit it to me, along with your soul, as if you can't trust them with anyone other than me.
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