I think of our skin wrapped around each other after soft moments of love and I can think of nothing more beautiful than you. The way your cheeky smile disappears into the stretch marks on my thighs, making me shiver and cry out and lose myself in your hands that only create art. I want to paint every movement we make together in the lushest strokes of oil; in crimson and rose, midnight and ash, tangerine and honey, dripping.
Sometimes your eyes flicker across at me and I’m thrown back to when you didn’t know about my shortcomings, and I hadn’t seen yours, but somehow we knew that we could weather the storms. I apologise to you nearly every day that you fell in love with a girl named after the rain, whose tears fall like waterfalls forming into rivers in which we both sometimes drown; one minute throwing words at you like lightening, the next kissing soft constellations of tenderness on every part of your dear body, your freckled skin.
I have never felt a love like ours, one that wraps me in an aura of deep knowing, of remembering; a love that inspires me to keep growing and facing the shadows that crawl around inside me.
My dearest dragon eyes, fire heart; you are the winter sun, the warmest light.