i always told you
i'd fall for you like rain
in a september afternoon.
how my love is an embodiment
of a blooming red tulip,
basking in the sun's ever lasting
warmth,
like the first ever smile you threw my way.

they would tell me
that the universe is saying
we aren't meant to be.
how can't we,
when the stars that night
when we mutually tried escaping reality,
says otherwise?

you once asked me
what we are,
and i remember not answering.

but if i had the chance again,
i would tell you that
you make me feel like
the first snow of winter
and simultaneously,
the last.

so if i asked you
if you felt the same,
would you say yes?