Darling, I’m falling for you

the way the sun falls in a purple sky.

Waiting,

like the stars that dance before dusk, anticipating their chance to shine.

Floating,

like a white feather in a spring breeze, settling among the weeded grass in a dandelion patch.

I’m an icicle in your gutter, on a 33 degree day.

Dripping,

dripping with your endearment, hoping I’ll never become detached.

An old-fashioned ink pen, dipped into your ink well.

An infinite wishing well.

Welling, swelling.

Swollen with hope and filled with words and dreams I’ll never truly tell.

Sinking, so surely,

so slowly.

A proud captain on a broken vessel,

that once sailed through the broken vessels under my skin.

Red veins like in my blood-shot eyes,

formed from spending every waking moment writing empty love songs.

And now, I’ve found a reason to sing.

You’re filling in the empty spaces.

Filling,

Filing,

my sharp edges into smooth stones.

Skipping along the ripples in the folds of your cheeks as you smile.

Miles.

Your grin starts at each shining sea.

Swimming,

with my right hand in the air, proud.

Holding my heart because it’s yours to drown.

Screaming in sweet serendipity,

you are my sweet surprise. 

Darling, I’m falling for you,

caught in your tree branch arms,

your leafy lullabies cradling me as we sing ourselves to sleep.