I traced stems on your back with my fingertips.
Rows of goose bumps lined your field of skin.
The bumps nestled softly along my fingertips.

I want to plant myself between your ribcage.
Grow closer with each beat of your heart,
blossom among your desire.

Perhaps tomorrow I can press petals into your neck;
knead leaves into the curves of your collarbones.
I want to grow with you, bury myself into your soul.