~~
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.