“You spent years planting red flags convincing me they were roses.”

We are so much more than the sum of parts colors staining us bruises of identity.

My heart cracks like an egg spilling the promises I thought I made.

Love and devotion are different words for a reason.

We dream of roses and grow like weeds.

My heart keeps room for you always even when you can’t be here.

Somehow you’d had your mermaids never smell like fish.

Spring into summer from pale green to emerald unfurling with grace.

You are all burning desires and questions with no answers.

Love was learning to read your vulnerability like a foreign language.

We don’t always have to see eye to eye when we are meeting soul to soul.

It is an act of courage every time you create. Stay brave.

We would look with scorn at witch mothers who build towers but not at princes who lust after caged women.

Somehow even in the dark, you can always turn to catch my kisses.

Love is not a net to catch others with.

The loss of innocence is inevitable bitterness does not have to be.

I no longer know how to find myself under the weight of who I had to be.

Darling daisies kiss as spring awakens today her heart and soul sings.

You’re my sunflower girl teaching me that magic is found in the wild that we are.

Petals and thorns grew hand in hand, realizing themselves, the oneness in them didn’t seem afar!

Honey, not every flower belongs to your garden.

Don’t be afraid to bloom even in the darkest of times, just like moonflower blooms in the depths of the night.

You could see a butterfly as just a butterfly, or you could see it as an iridescent flower amidst the endless periwinkle blue skies.

Water your scars with self-love and watch them bloom into flowers of strength.

The day I know who I am, why and how is known of me, I will be me, Me: free from thorns and petals that go round and round, in heads and heels, and would reveal me, me indeed!