I never expected that you would say it was my kindness that drew you to me.
In my bed, with the light from the setting sun coming in through the window, glazing your honey brown hair with a golden halo, reflecting against your dark eyelashes; your head resting against my chest as you dozed off; as I stared at the ceiling contemplating our situation.
I never considered myself a kind man.
I could be stand off-ish. I could be rude. I could be cruel.
The first time we were alone, I thought you were humoring me, by telling me flower arranging was like magic. You were a bouquet of snapdragons, catching me off-guard. Something didn't sit right with me, and though I appreciated the thought and the words, I ignored your true nature, so unlike mine.
Weeks later you found me at the edge of the river, contemplative and alone, as always. I confided in you, as a fool, another outsider to Oak Tree Town. You didn't disappoint me or let me down, but my shock of finding a fellow wandering soul came across in such a way that I was afraid that you would turn away from me.
But what you gave back made me wish I could return the favor. You were thankful, grateful, so happy that someone else that saw your struggle in fitting in to a new community to follow your dream. Because dreams are all we are in the end. Bud-less plants in winter's affront.
I began to dream of you. Legs locked around hips. Lips against necks, gasps buried in pillows. Golden rods entwining themselves with Spanish jasmines.
My mind decided to trace itself to me finding a lost cat, and you helping in my renaming of the pet. I could smell the baby's breath on your lips as you played along with me, and as you spoke Margaret, a daisy , a flower, I knew you were the one. Even if the cat had an owner, and you were true to her name, to my surprise, I knew that we could grow together.
Days passed, then a few weeks. I would think about you.
When I went down to the river.
When I was arranging flowers.
When I was alone in my room and with my hand below my waist, myself thinking of you in a bed of roses.
Thats when you told the others that you loved my kindness. So honest and so truthful, as if you didn't know how loud you were, or that I was in my room above you.
You are sugar and honey. You are red roses and flax. A place to call home. I do not deserve you as you breathe heavy on my skin and grab my at waist, and I whisper.
'I love you."
I don't know if you heard me, but I meant it. I alway will.
A/N: I wrote some/a lot of this a year or so ago and I'm glad that its finally getting its debut. So if any one is confused, I'm going to provide the meanings of the mentioned flowers (something near and dear to my heart, to the point of having many tattooed all over myself).
Snapdragons - grace under pressure, or sometimes deception
Golden Rod - cautiousness
Spanish Jasmines - sensuality
Baby's breath - purity, innocence
Marguerite/Daisy - loyal love
Red Rose - Love, Passion
Flax - Symbol of domesticity