Gazing into her eyes, I see the splatter of a large canvas, so colorful and wonderful tying us up for the rest of our lives together.
I can imagine holding her close, nibbling on her lips, tasting the sweet champagne of her kiss and falling back in love with her harder than before.
I want to wrap Bonnibel up in the blanket of my arms and hold her as close as she can get to me until I feel as if we'd molded together into a fluid person.
I love her, and I'd never felt it hit as hard as it did in this moment.
I just want her to know even as we skirt around the issue, even as we cuddle closer when no one can see us, and even when we steal kisses in hallways that normally wouldn't be this dark.
I've never felt my heart race in anything like this, never looked forward to every stolen kiss like it was my last lifeline or clung so hard to another person.
She'd become my everything without really trying to, and all that I could possibly want was her.
I step closer when the crowd jives away, pulling her into the cradle of my arms, and pulling her into an even slower waltz that doesn't at all fit for the song currently being played, but I know that that's what I want most.
We move as if we've always known that I'd lead the dance, and she'd follow; I know that I'm not the best lead, let alone the best dancer, but I hold her as close as the waltz allows us to, moving her along with every step that she willingly follows before we part ways about halfway into the song to make sure that no one ever could see us.
I pretend through every last second of the ball that I don't know her until finally everyone leaves, and I can kiss her in peace where no one will see us.
I'll trace her pink hair back and kiss her until she can't keep her eyes open and hold her like the world just opened up this sanctuary for us.
