Golden

When my lips brush against yours, it’s like I have an incontrollable urge to speak, but I can’t. Though, all I can think about is how much I want to tell you how beautiful your heart is. I see reds, pinks, and purples, all meshed in one, but I think you’re golden. I see you, and I see deep blue ocean waves, crashing up against the rocks by the shore, and I see you, the sun setting, mailing off splashes of magenta and shades of blue to the rest of the sky. But darling, I still think you’re golden.