If i could share with you,
The depths of my love from inside.
Embedded in each one of these words,
An adoration for you presides.

But within this sonnet,
I can only entail so much.
For how am i to explain,
The parts of my heart you have touched.

I could say that,
Within the warmth of your embrace.
It’s a feeling found new,
For ive never felt so safe.

Or i could say,
When youre holding my hand.
Our hearts know it to be true,
There’s nothing we can’t withstand.

And when the days become rough,
No hope found in view.
I know i can always go home,
And home lies with you.

I’m sorry you never bloomed,
You never grew petals of color.
You don’t shine a beautiful hue,
For you’ve grown to be another.

As a growing sprout,
You were stepped on and crushed.
A growing cloud of doubt,
Turned all your hope into dust.

So in your seasons of bloom,
You noticed you began to wilt.
Your leaves, the face of gloom,
Your stem, filled with guilt.

You’re not yet full grown,
But anyone can see.
A wilting sprout unknown,
Will only mature to be a ****.

And now a dying plant,
With nutrients sour.
When your mind is askant,
Your heart still weeps to flower.