Put your hands in mine and let me feel them close around my heart.
Hold it, crush it, and taste the love slithering out of my veins.
Can you feel it?
Can you smell the sweet scent of the garden I had planted for you?
Each rose is deeply rooted in the ground, refusing to let go,
refusing to leave an empty land behind for you.
I have given you my body and soul;
I have given you my mind and dreams;
I have given you my past and my future;
I have given you me.
And I have but one thing to ask of you—
show me you care.
Show me your insecurities,
your guilty pleasures,
your favorite pastimes,
your small obsessions,
your dearest memory,
for I have found that you are a cure, my love.
I take you to heal myself,
to replenish my happiness,
to learn to appreciate love again.
I have taken what I thought were cures before,
and I got addicted to them,
but they were doing nothing other than sending me further into the abyss.
And then I tasted you,
and I knew that you are not a drug.
You are not a pill I crave to take to stop the wounds from burning within me—temporarily.
You are the flowers I crave to smell,
the morning coffee I yearn to taste at the crack of dawn,
the sound of the Malabar whistling thrush,
the touch of cool seawater against my hot skin,
the enchanting colors in the garden of Eden.
So, show me you care,
and I shall care for you,
for my happiness is incomplete
unless you are happy too.