Springtime Romance

We've been flirting for weeks. And it's been lovely.

That thrilling rush of the newfound relationship; the warm glows scattered in and among the rest of the cold routine. Caught glimpses of what we both could hope we'd always ever be.

And then this morning, we shared our first kiss, and it set me alight.

Welcome, Springtime. Welcome to my life. I've missed you so.

I ache for the days spent with you. I smile when I think of the time we will spend together; the warmth we will share. The smiles you'll give me, and the thrills I'll fill you with.

Naturally, of course, our relationship will do as all springtime romances do. It will heat until it boils over and we can't stand the sight of one another. I'll dread the mornings that bring you to my doorstep. You'll be oppressively smothering and burn me with your mere presence. I'll beg and plead for relief from your scalding anger, and eventually remember even the coldest, most bitter days fondly, as no matter how frigid they were, they compare favorably to you.

Isn't that something? That I'd rather hold myself and shiver, than suffer you? It's something I can't even comprehend right now. You feel so lovely this morning as your breath lightly blows across my skin. You were gorgeous when I woke up to you this morning.

And I will miss you when I go to sleep. But there you'll be tomorrow, ready to receive me with open arms. And I will hug you back and take you in, trying my hardest to ignore the signs of the impending.

Because while I love you in your youth, Springtime... When you mature into Summer, you become a fucking bitch.