Laughter.                      
          
           Joy.                      

                 Gossip.        
    
Whispers.                                   ­   

                 Giggles.                                
                    
   ­                            Friends.
    
      Smiles.            
            
Love.       ­                               

Love.

No.
Include me.
Take me.

No.
Stop it.

No.
No.
no

they picked the brightest flower;
not the one
wilted,
bent at the stem,
dull from too little sun.
i never expected it to be me—
but god,
i wanted it to be.

i open the curtains
behind my windowsill
so you can glow in the sun—
light spilling over your petals,
straight into my eyes.
they water, of course,
but you look so radiant
i forget to blink.

i breathe you in, and everything burns.
my eyes won’t stop itching,
my chest feels heavy,
my throat a slow flame—
the weight of loving you.
but i never move you.
i let you bloom
right beside me,
because love, i think,
is sometimes choosing the ache.