Water Lily.

I often find myself looking at you like I look at Monet's Water Lilies, as if I'm admiring a great piece of art. I'm leaned back, fully relaxed, head cocked to the side as I study your features. Each one pulls me into the painting further, as I sit here in this museum that you're blissfully unaware of. 

Your hair flows like the willow branches, gently dancing & playing across your alabaster skin. Sweet nothings and secrets that only we share spill out of your lips, smoother than water. Your lotus cheeks flush with color as the summer sun beats down, but as soon as you flash that roguish smile, a wave of cool blue washes over both of us. I'd give anything to step into that reflective pool & absolutely drown in you.  

From time to time, those lilypad eyes lock with mine, and everything else truly does become nothing but dots and smudges, an impressionist landscape surrounding the most beautiful human I've ever laid eyes on.