I want your absence to be enough to keep me hungry for conversation among those longing to stop my breath. Even if just for a moment.
Your sheer existence has enough power to quake my nerves and keep my stomach empty of food, words, excitement, energy.
Your eyes have enough strength to swipe me into the undertow in a blink, because that meant you still wanted me within your sight after you closed your eyes. You shouldn't give a girl enough hope.
Your smile has just enough eccentricity to make a girl think she's the only one who could possibly notice it, but you know there are enough who recognize  is value to keep a girl striving for ages.
You tell just enough to convince her of a niche with her initials carved in the corners of your priorities but there's still enough space for a subtle pale gown; you convinced me I'm better suited for red.
There are just enough intimidations surrounding you to protect you from unwanted attention outside of your circle, little to no room left for new significance.
I don't need your intimidation's approval, I don't need a snowy dress's significance, but if red is your favorite color, then why could I be aflame in the blizzard and still avoid your blink or undervalued smile? When will I be a bright enough shade of red for you to start wanting me in eggshell, in taupe?
I've had enough flame and can only feel a sharp ice now. But ice is clear, not the snow color that you once found and cherished. Enough shades are between black and white and I never knew that fifty shades of gray could be as red as your intentions.
Constantly conforming enough to the shades of your desires, I use my words as keys, each with a lock to one of your emotions.
I've memorized enough of them, but still haven't found the lock I obsess over to escape this phase of red.