By Priyanka Yadav
I can be your Christmas sweater,
feeling all your warmth.
I can be your Triumph Bonneville,
riding through the rocky crust.
Sometimes, if you want, I can be your sailor,
sailing you through the rugged.
I can be your camerawoman,
capturing your crimson thought.
I can be your cushion,
whenever you fall.
Oh,
whenever you stall.
Feelings that are banging my heart,
racing through my veins, are harder to guard.
Hoping you will make me yours,
ohh, someday; make me yours.
Can I be your cold shower on a hot Mediterranean day,
running through your tangled hair,
dripping off your eyelids in a somersault way?
Ohh,
I will always be your bay, ohh, be your bay.
Will you be my vine?
Then I can always be your support,
forever there to hold.
I will always be; always be, always be yours.