I did not ask for this—
this bruise of wanting blooming under my ribs.
You came like winter sun:
too soft to trust, too sharp to turn away.
I kept my silence folded
like a letter I’d never send—
and yet you read me,
one pulse, one breath at a time.
Now, my thoughts are ash-colored birds
nesting in your name.
I am undone—
not loudly, but with the hush of snow falling
on a house already burning.
May 9, 2025
May 9, 2025 at 9:07 PM UTC
I did not ask for this—
this bruise of wanting blooming under my ribs.
You came like winter sun:
too soft to trust, too sharp to turn away.
I kept my silence folded
like a letter I’d never send—
and yet you read me,
one pulse, one breath at a time.
Now, my thoughts are ash-colored birds
nesting in your name.
I am undone—
not loudly, but with the hush of snow falling
on a house already burning.
Here's a new poem wriiten from the prompt: Write a poem that describes the feeling when you start to fall for someone.
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