Seeing you reminds me of yhe evening primrose, and I imagine your hair smelling of the flowers roots, smelling of lemon with a hint of vanilla. Maybe tasting like it, too. Maybe someday it’ll happen, the taste of evening primrose flooding my mouthwhile the taste of butterscotch fills yours.

Your eyes, like a storm churning the sea into a rage, make my heart spasm. You cause ventricular fibrillation. You make me feel things. The whole cliché butterflies and heart palpitations.

Your eyes, a barren forest in winter, the view from under the trees as you look up into the twilit sky. I’d build a cabin here, where neither season nor time changes. Here, where the world ceases to revolve around the sun, ceases to spin on its axis.

And regardless of the price, no matter how exorbitant, I’d never sell it. I’d live out my days in blissful twilight. The most beautiful forest as twilight continues to flood my heart; as neither moon nor sun peek over the horizon, and are trapped in place for all eternity. No, I’d keep my cabin regardless of what I could gain. Besides, I was never that into realty anyway.