Onyx. O lake of of the galaxies. Your eyes are of colored glassy onyx and sincerity and you smell like Winter in Spring. The sweet type. Your hair is brown with an ultraviolet twist of blonde. O onyx. My onyx. I love the way your sun kissed eyes wake up to the dawn and I love the way your jet black hair gets messy in the windy breeze and the way you feel like the world sits in the palm of your hand. I love the way you are quick-witted but sometimes you’re too fast for me and contradictory, I know you’ll destroy me for this but, I love the way you control situations but you can never control me. In other words, I love it when you’re gentle with me. I love the way you can never solve me or my countless riddles. I love you. I wanna hear more about you. I hate talking about me and these things I can never say aloud. Plus the bonus: I want you. I want you to solve me and love me at my worst. Maybe that’s why flowers are in your hair and why the birds chirp and the bees buzz in the Springtime. You. You make my Spring days worthwhile and my sun shine brighter than it ought to shine. You look so beautiful when you sleep. It should be a sin to watch. Do you notice this? Do you notice that when the tide moves, you move with it? This and that is love. You love it when I sing, and you’re the one who fights for me. You breathe softly and when you awaken, I see onyx eyes with jet black hair. He had the kind of eyes that made you a killer. Those kind of eyes are the eyes you fight battles for. But dreams are only meant to be dreams and it is a blessing that you love me.
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