The color of your eyes makes me content to never see another rainbow again, because you fall somewhere between blue and indigo and between the ribs underneath my skin where my heart beats for you.

And yes, I know you don’t actually feel love in your heart. We were in sixth grade science together, remember?

But I do feel a beating that sounds something like your delicate feet on my bedroom floor when you sneak out in the morning to make coffee that tastes as strongly as you do.

But you taste like sweat and lavender and coffee tastes like dirt. As least that is what I say. And then you say, “It is an acquired taste.”

Then I think about how you weren’t. I never had to get used to you. We just were. We were like tulips blooming in your favorite month of the year.

But I want to withstand winter with you. Because even when it’s cold and my hands are dry and rough, yours are as soft as the sky the day I met you. And they are creamy like the milk you pour in that dirt water of yours.

But the point is, it doesn’t matter if you are color in the rainbow or a heartbeat or a cup of coffee or a soft hand, I will love you until we are left like a love letter in a grandmother’s closet or a romance novel in a box marked “GARBAGE”.

I don’t know what will happen to us, but right now, what I feel for you is forever. And forever starts right now. I love you right now.