Sun-kissed

For the first time in months, the sun’s rays are quietly peaking between the curtains and are shamelessly shading on my face. I get up and while making coffee, I can catch my eye-straining on to the black screen of my phone left on the counter. I want you to call me early. Right now, in fact! Tell me that you want to spend the longest afternoon known to mankind together, cycling in the direction of the sun. Seasons are magical, but spring does something special to people. And you, my dearest, have appeared in my life as the trickling spring. Because of you, I am not afraid for the first time. You came unexpectedly to my table in that little room for English lessons and even then, I felt like I wished to prepare breakfast for you in the morning, to tiptoe around our bed while you were still sleeping, and then to have breakfast listening to the hummingbirds outside our window. You helped me look through the mud that I climbed out of without realising. You opened up my eyes to the blossoming trees overflowing like huge fragrant and clean bouquets on the streets. The screen is black, and the coffee is ready. Both are in a perfect tone. I have realised a relationship is not what I thought it was, and I do not really need something perfect. I want to make mistakes, I want to fight, but most of all – I want to love you with all my bipolar, dramatic and messy heart. With the spring out, the forgotten desire for life blossomed and I cannot stop dreaming about our adventures together. I want us to buy new colourful clothes, go on a journey through small, unexplored villages and stop at roadside gas stations to ask for the direction. I want us to watch the trees flow and the grass grow like a madman. Everything will be so easy, as long as you hold my hand and lead me in the direction of the sun, chase it for hours to keep it from reflecting in the nuances of my hair... I have my eyes closed and a silly smile on my face when the phone chimes in the right sound. A message. I know it is you, even without looking. “Are you up, sleepyhead?”I laugh. You are my hell. Allow me to smile for you now and to do with your body what spring does with cherries. Allow me to reread our conversations when summer burns our feelings. Allow me everything that I allow you, and a little more than that. I am all coffee, cherries, and poetry, and the birds in me fly to the south where they will find your hands... and here you are, knocking on my door.