Where do you get your inspiration?

Paper cranes from newspaper mache.
The way you kiss me makes my heart flutter.
You flatter me. My undeserving self.
Your strong arms that quake my chest,
Your forgiving shoulders that shield my selfish eyes.
You wear those tiny t-shirts and collect my teardrops with your tongue.
Your voice implores me.
"Tell me everything you're thinking."
You've said that since the rainy day we met.
That Friday afternoon when the Devil beat his wife.
The picnic was so cold that I barely felt the frigid ground.
Our hands intertwined and you knotted your fingers in mine.
Our bodies froze that way.
With our legs Indian crossed legs and my claw-machine souvenirs.
You kissed me twice that night.
Light and airy so as not to scare me.
I've finally met someone perfect.
You're so perfectly rainy and sunny all at once.
The stars shine so brightly over your head.
Hallelujah, hallelujah.
A plethora of weathers that's all I could ask for.
I hope we buy that icy blue armchair that's etched with ink.
I hope we paint the kitchen yellow and have that kid named Sophie.
And if it's all up to me, I'll burn this city to the ground and name the country after you.
We'll have the stormy chair and the vibrant kitchen.
And we'll have Sophie.
I'll buy your dad a brand new motorcycle,
and breathe in a brand new day to match.