By Nightengale Ben-Onyeukwu
If I had forty-five minutes, I wouldn’t waste a single
second thinking about what to do. I would already know. I’d slip into a dress
that hugs me just right, soft and flowing, the kind that makes my skin glow, with
a touch of elegance and a little playful charm to make you look twice. My hair
would fall in loose, soft waves around my shoulders, framing my face, my lips
painted in a shade that whispers ‘kiss me’. I’d smile, because loving you
always makes my heart race in a way I can’t explain.
I’d stop at that little flower shop on the corner, the
one that smells of fresh roses and chocolate, and pick the roses myself, soft
pinks, deep reds, paired with rich, dark chocolates, the kind that say ‘I love
you’ without words.
Then I’d catch the bus.
I’d sit by the window, holding the roses and chocolates
close, watching the city slip past like it knows I am running to you. Every
stop would feel like a little heartbeat, pulling me closer. I’d think about
your smile, the way your eyes light up when you see me, how just being near you
makes me feel alive, safe, and completely yours. I’d picture you looking so
handsome, your shirt fitting just right, your smile able to stop the world,
eyes sparkling at me, and I’d want nothing more than to be irresistible to you
too.
When I saw you, I wouldn’t rush. Forty-five minutes isn’t
long, but love stretches time when it’s real. We’d walk together, hand in hand,
maybe to the beach or a quiet spot where the world disappears. We’d sit close,
letting the waves whisper around us as the sun melts into the sea, painting the
sky gold and pink.
We’d talk about little things, the clouds drifting by,
the old man on the street with his dog, little memories only we understand.
Sometimes we wouldn’t need words. A look, a brush of your fingers against mine,
a soft smile, everything would be said without speaking.
I’d move closer, feeling your warmth, my hand tracing
your jaw, my lips brushing yours gently. Our kiss would start soft and slow,
then deepen, letting the world disappear. I’d rest my head against your chest,
listening to your heartbeat, feeling safe, desired, and loved all at once.
We’d kiss again, softly, deeply, laughing between kisses,
holding each other close, whispering little secrets, letting every second of
those forty-five minutes feel endless.
If I had forty-five minutes, I’d give every single one to
you, holding you, kissing you, letting our love spill over, making memories
that linger long after the moment is gone. When it ended, love would still be
there, in the roses, in the chocolates, in the sunset, in the softness of your
lips, in the strength of your arms.
Because forty-five minutes with you would be more than
enough to feel infinite, utterly, deliciously, irresistibly alive.
With all my love,
Nightengale Ben-Onyeukwu
Happy Valentine
