i once had a dream.
about her, 
of course. 
who else would it have been?

and she was there --
in front of me
laughing, 
looking so
effortlessly
pretty,
like joy had learnt
how to refract
through her smile.
and she was
my girlfriend.
my
girlfriend.
and her lips --
they looked
like they were something...
between a promise
and a secret.
warm,
and soft.
i smiled
at her.
gosh.
she slowly leaned in,
and i had
plummeted
into waking.

it was just a dream.
not real.
not at all real.
but god --
it felt like solace.

i always stare
at the stars
in the middle of nowhere,
because you liked constellations.
we used to find them together --
drawing silly lines in the sky
like the universe
made sense if we
connected the dots.

now i lie there,
in the middle of nowhere,
staring at the stars --
alone.
the sky holds them,
but it doesn't feel like it used to.
i can see orion
and i remeber
vividly
how your fingers traced it on my arm
like i was part of the sky too.

but you're not here anymore.
but i keep looking up,
at the constellations,
the bright stars..
just in case
you're still searching
but from somewhere
i can't see.

sunlight spills
across her face,
the warm glow seeping
through the curtains
quietly,
while she sleeps --
like the morning
is in love with her too.

her lashes catch
the warm sun,
like she's dreaming
in golden.
i stay still,
quiet,
gentle --
not because i might wake her,
but because i don't want
to break
the moment.

im thinking too much
again.
why won't you say anything?
all i said was --
"i miss you"
is that too much?
am i too much?
am i not enough?
should i love you?
it's only been a week..
i can make myself --
if it makes you happy.
am i texting too often?
did i send the wrong emojis?
was i not funny enough today?
not talkative enough?

****.
im thinking too much..
again.

every morning, 
i stare at the mirror --
looking into my own eyes
like they belong
to someone else.

my smile feels forced,
stolen.
like i borrowed this body,
and forgot 
to give it back.

i don't deserve it.
i neglect this body,
my shattered heart
would survive better
in someone
more loving
and patient.

you only ever call --
when she doesn't answer
to your pleas.
i pick up anyway,
just to hear
a voice --
one that won't
choose me.

i think i was meant
to be a flower --
maybe a tulip.
soft,
sunlit,
open.
but i spent
way
too
long
wilting away
before i even got the chance
to bloom.

there were summers
i didn’t feel.
playgrounds i left
way too early.
and dresses i never wore
because i didn’t feel pretty --
or skinny enough
to.

i wanted to run
along the beach
with my group of friends,
laughing,
smiling.
but i was too shy.
too scared
they’d make fun
of the way i run.
so i didn’t go.

i’m only fifteen,
but some days
i feel like
my petals
already fell.
like i was just
too late.

and maybe one day,
i’ll grow again --
maybe as an orchid.
maybe softness
isn’t something you miss,
but something
you return to.