When you call me "baby,"
I become an ice popsicle
laying on a hot ground
in the midst of summer.
I expectedly melt
with that one simple word
as if I'm an ice crystal
falling into a pool of lava.
When you tell me "I love you,"
I become a cotton
or a leaf in autumn,
or a cute little bubble.
My bed becomes a cumulus cloud,
I feel soft and
float untroubled,
and unworried.
When you send me audio clips of you singing,
I become an inexperienced
and untrained diver
who still loves diving.
Willing enough to drown
in your voice because
I feel even more alive.
All these combined
assured me in every way,
an affirmation that I am
still inside your walls.
Neither thrown away
nor abandoned,
but safe and secured,
occupying my own little space
in your castle,
taking the time to dig your soil
to bury my roots deep
...so you'll have a hard time
removing me or
so I could grow back
if you ever decided to cut me off.
A favor, my loves.
Spoil me with those every day.
I'll treat them like fresh flowers
you plucked out as gifts.
I would love to plant it back
in my world
and make a beautiful garden
out of it.