If I were champagne
If I were champagne, I would sparkle with joy every day.
If I were champagne I would flow through your veins, tickling the inside of your body with my bubbles. You’d giggle from pleasure and a little discomfort.
If I were champagne I would turn all the bubbles into shooting stars. And when they’d fade, they’d become butterflies. If I were champagne and my bubbles would be shooting stars and then butterflies, I would guide them straight through to your stomach and let them linger in there for a while.
If I were champagne I would turn your irides into rubies and your pupils would become black diamonds. And from the tingling of your body and the shimmer of your eyes you would sparkle with joy too. Just like me.
If I were champagne I would move exuberantly inside your brain. I would braid your nerve cells into a ponytail and tie it with silk and dopamine. If I were champagne I would release your dreams into your conscious mind and free you from the urge to sleep again.
If I were champagne I would sneak inside your heart and patch it up with sugar and gold. I would dance, euphoric and barefoot inside your valve. And if that doesn’t make it beat any faster, I will tingle it a little with my bubbles.
If I were champagne I would place a hammock in your lungs. I would swing to the rhythm of your breath and juggle bubbles of CO2 to make you breathe more rapidly.
If I were champagne I would make your toes twitch and your legs restless.
If I were champagne you would tell me you love me much sooner. And we’d frolic together, me with my bubbles, you with your butterflies and gemstone eyes.