My love is like a hummingbird,
Soft, gentle, sweet,
Yet passionately fluttering from place to place, not caring where it lands or who it lands next to.

My love is like a rose, 
Romantic, appealing, seductive.
But thorny, and if given the chance, will prick you if you aren’t careful.
Dangerous.

My love is like cinnamon.
Tasteful, soft on the tongue, warm.
It reminds you of home.
But too much, and it could kill you.
Blocking your airways with its soft powder and cookie scent,
Breathing you in until there’s more of it than of you,
Drowning you with affection.

My passion is like a pen,
Flowing, elegant, swift.
Creatively immortalising you with one stroke.
But intertwined with anxious minds and racing hearts, 
It can rush out of your control, racing to tell the story before it’s been written.
Running less on reality, and more on imagination.

Me? I am like the water.
Soft, flowing, calm.
Appealing, lovely, endless.
Yet deadly, destructive, overwhelming.
I am not the best, or the most beautiful.
The most charismatic or the brightest,
But I will love you from the inside out.
So much so that I risk engulfing you into my desire.
I will overpower you, end you, revive you.
Make sure that I leave no stone unturned in the search for your heart.
And when I have it,
I will cherish it so strongly that I may crush it in the process.

But you? You’re a baby bird.
Gentle, delicate.
Beautiful to look at, but not to be touched.
And I am a little child,
Curiously clamouring for what appeals to me most.
And I want you.
However I should be careful, for I must not break you.
I must not be heavy handed with my affection.
I must hold you like the glass menagerie you are,
Lest you shatter into pieces and take my heart along with you.