November slipped away from the clutches of my eyelids like the melting snow under brisk sunlight, because I learnt it the sweet way that time grows wings when you're in love with someone.
Do you know that you're a portrait, and I can adore you all day?
There's something new to you with every glance I cast: the wrinkles on the outskirts of your eyes when you smile, the curves your lips curl into, and your teeth biting them and how you scrunch your nose in disapproval— I could sit silently, consuming your silence and still wish upon the dying sun to grant me some more hours with you; time is notorious though, it doesn't slow down even if I pluck the needles of the clock, so I pluck an eyelash and pray to be with you, forever, and ever, and ever.
It's on my bucket list to watch the before trilogy on a cold December night with you, because that's the kind of love and romance that keeps you warm when the frost starts settling in your joints and muscles. But frankly, no iconic movie moment has melted my heart like you do; your love has lit an everlasting furnace to thaw it, and your silly stupid hopeful goofiness, fuels it.
It was getting colder, and my skin had started to crack; reason why I avoid smiling in winters, cheeks hurt; okay, alright, I lie, I don't ever smile, and you deserve a separate accolade for being the person who could make wallflower be vulnerable; smiling is so easy when it's impulsive and you mean it, ain't it?
I swear to mufflers, snowflakes, hoodies, and muffins, and to winter, of course, that I'll greet you with butterflies in my belly and colour on my cheeks in the promised November.
It's a pinky promise, that I won't let you drift away from my clutches to the northern lights, because our fingers are interlocked like the woollen threads of a cardigan that goes over and under, filling every void slowly and gracefully.
My parched lips are sealed, but my eyes would tell you, that it's a deal!