I’M ALL YOURS

“I’m all yours,” was all I read.

No, it wasn’t what you meant, 

No, it’s not all that you said,

But it was still a ray of hope,

A butterfly in my stomach,

The bursting green shooting seed.

“I’m all yours,” rang loud in my head.

Maybe you wanted me to notice,

Maybe you wanted me to have read,

The might of your teasing test,

The bite of your chilling charm,

The beginning buds of rose.

“I’m all yours,” spoke more words than said.

Because it came in such levity,

Dipped in brevity and glazed so readily,

Of a promise as faint as 

A technicolored bow behind the sun, 

As the rose petal spreads its fragile wings.

“I’m all yours,” took me off my feet.

Yes, you knew what you wrote,

Yes, you knew what it’d do,

Dancing water pulling boats down slopes,

Dragon colored sheets and crafted ropes,

Two inch nails prickling flowered hopes.

“I’m all yours,” flashed lightning in my eyes.

Perhaps the echo of voices in a cave,

Perhaps the curl of lips and the flash of teeth,

That happen before our stories fall,

On more than one inked-up page, like

A blossomed rose cut from the stalk. 

“I’m all yours,” was dangerous talk,

Lest you saw the seed you sowed, 

Lest you want a weak and weary worry,

To water the thought and seek its fruit,

Until the gardener forgets to care,

And lets the roses, die by pair.