I picked a flower in May just to watch her blossom all for myself
Beautiful and brilliant I sat her in a glass on a shelf
I added water so she wouldn't go dry
Magnificence such as hers I couldn't let die
I watched as she grew
Time flew and flew
Her petals orange and blue like a vanilla sky
As she prospered and danced I noticed a change
Something very strange that caught my eye
Her stems became vines intertwined simultaneously with my poetry and life
In place of green,
She overflowed out of the glass in white sheets of paper
And it was there she made her illustration so divine
A perfect drawing of a heart
That turned out to be mine

There isn't a place for us
to exist in the day.
The magnanimous sun reveals too much
for common eyes to see.

But come night,
dimmed lamps be our aide.

We sink into each other
with little reservation.
We overlap, intertwine
and merge.

Inadvertently blending
into darkened backdrops,
we get absorbed in our very own
shadowplay.