I’m not sure if it is something in the atmosphere, your eyes, or where your head is at in that particular moment, but sometimes the colours just pop more, you know? I appreciate those moments. They fuel the imagination. I want to kiss you now. I want to kiss you and then have you wipe your red lipstick off my lips with your thumb and a smile. Watching me with eyes a colour so deep and rich that I’m not convinced it should exist in nature. But it exists. Only for you. And for me. Today I stare at the sky, marveling at the brightness of the blue. The clouds look like a map of the places I want to go. With you. Always with you. And tonight. And every night for us, I want to watch the light dance around you. Wanting to land, but feeling unworthy. Maybe. I’m a dreamer. But that’s okay. You can teach a dreamer to be more realistic when needed. It doesn’t work the other way around. Never. It can’t. Love, I don’t want a woman who woos in poetry, but lives in prose. I want to make the colours pop for you too. Take my hand. Let’s have a stolen dance in leaves of orange and yellow. And that familiar red.