there is an ache in my heart, 

  where thorns have grown,

    and from those; roses.

roses that bleed the color of my infatuation, 

  where i paint above my brow,

    and that color bleeds from where i rip apart my canvas.

there is a fiery amber lit in her eyes,

    and mine is a dimming forest that had burned down.

i know i talk about her eyes a lot,

  but that is because it's one of the things that make living worth it.

     to look at her is always as overwhelming as the first time,

       she's a constant.

if i am a sunflower, she is the sun.

  if i am a thorn, she is the rose.

    if i am existing, she is the centre of my universe.

perhaps, i shall talk about myself one day.

  but for now, she is enough. and always will be.

    it's time she realized that.

- the sun