you call me petal,
suddenly im blushing
like a rose in the morning
before the sun knows to look away

your fingers brush against mine
and something blooms --
not loudly,
but like orchids
deciding its time.

you always smell like wild lavender
and stolen hours,
like the kind of spring
you never see coming
until it's already
wrapped around your ribs.

i used to hate snowdrops.
they're too open, too soft.
now i plant them into poems
because they remind me of you --
brave
enough
to bloom anyway.

this thing between us
isn't fireworks.
it's passion,
it's roots,
and patience
it feels like sunlight shared on a park bench
where your head finds my shoulder
and stays.

happiness hums in the quiet light,
laughs that bloom without a why,
the warmth is caught
in passing glances-
bare tlfeet dancing through the sky
all these feelings,
tangled and small,
easily labelled as one;
happy.

grief doesn't knock-
it slips in
wearing her perfume,
that strong vanilla scent
it sits beside me in silence,
and stays longer than memory.

her absence is a hum
beneath the streetlight.
it slips through my curtains -
silver,
never soft enough
to hush my thoughts.
give me a break.

her name is a wind,
caught behind my ribs,
blowing through
the rooms i built for her
but never locked.

every breath feels borrowed,
taken -
like she left it behind
by accident.
like her smile,
still living in the quiet
between my heartbeats.

the bed forgets
how to hold me right,
how to put me to sleep.
some nights,
loneliness is a second pillow.
other nights,
it’s her voice -
curled up
where my dreams should be.
but they aren’t.

talk to me.
stop staring from afar
i don't want stolen glances-
i want us.
i want your love.
i want your hand in mine.

i don't need to see you
across the room
laughing with another man
why couldn't it be me?
the girl you stare at
watch from afar-
making sure she's okay
quietly,
making sure she's not
seeing anyone else
you should talk to me
talk to me
instead of watching
instead of wondering
making sure
im not taken
im here
i just want
to be spoken to
by you.

we still talk-
only in echoes now
you send memes
instead of midnight thoughts
or how your mum finally said
"im proud of you"

our laughter-
it used to fill rooms
theatres when we watched a comedy
but now-
it just barely stirs the surface
and i think
we both feel it

there's a silence between us
it hums
between messages
the long pauses
they don't even ask to be broken.
no fight,
no storm,
just the soft unraveling
of something
that was once knotted tightly.

maybe that's
how some tides go-
not crashing
just quietly
pulling back
pulling away softly
without a sound

i don't miss her per se
not really-
not the way she stirred her coffee counter-clockwise
or how she spoke my name
ever so softly
like a secret
no one else could hold

i miss the feeling
of her-
that imagined life
woven in between shared glances
and almosts
the home i built
in her soft
gummy smile
before i saw the cracks

i miss what never even happened
the parallel version of us
the ones who stayed.
is that still missing her?
or just missing
being wanted
by someone
who never really could?

my ache has no address
no home
yet it answers
to her name
every time
like it's all i know
like she's all i know