Oh self, gardener of mistakes.
The trees I planted grew sideways,  giving shade only when I need it, never when I want.
Oh her, gardener of nervous hearts.
The tiny little buh-bump, buh-bumps of the night haunt my mind.
But they leave me thinking she's got countless petals and seeds trespassing in me.
And I am still learning if I should embrace them in the soil,
Or if I should dig them up before I get too attached.