What should I call this poem?

The scent of you, a whispered promise, a sunrise on the edge of my soul. Before, I was a chrysalis, dreaming in shades of grey, waiting, heart a tightly wound coil. Now, with you, a tremor, a shift within the core of me. Unfurling wings of possibilities, painted with the vibrant hues of a love I never dared to imagine. These wings, they ache to carry us, to soar above the mundane, to dance among the stars, a symphony of passion played out on the canvas of forever. With you, my love, I fly.