Our guards keep out, the hurt and healing, 
When we meet, shrouded in protective walls. 
Each awaits the other to take the first step, 
Both carrying wounds and too afraid to fall.

A bouquet from a man of few poetic words,
Left me at a loss, struggling for words,
Amidst the sunflowers, bright and bold,
I found a key to his home, a chapter to unfold.

It was a symbol of trust, a door opened wide,
An invitation to enter, with nothing to hide,
No poem or love letter could ever convey
The depth of his feelings in such a meaningful way.

She leaned in and kissed him, driven by an irresistible impulse rather than a well-planned intention.
Like a gentle dare, inviting him to join her in a moonlit dance, offering a mysterious and alluring proposition.
Little did she know the long shadow this moment would cast, lingering throughout the rest of her seasons.
Caught between feelings of regret and joy, she often reflects on the lessons learned from that bittersweet passion.

As I was applying my lavender lotion tonight.  
My fingers noticed something that didn't seem right.  

The blue flowers of love are no longer in bloom.  
My body feels as bare as a tree in winter's gloom.  

My brief summer of passion is a shadow from the past.
Your lips and my body, forever continents apart.

Forgiving others to heal your wounds is just a way to start,  
You must extend the same to yourself, from the depths of your heart,
Not just for the moments you may have hurt others,
But for the times you abandoned yourself,

Staying in situations too long, holding tight instead of letting go,  
Putting in effort that went unseen, sowing seeds that couldn't grow,  
Hiding your pain behind a smile, crafting a brave disguise,  
Accepting less than you deserve, afraid of cutting old ties,  
Stop sending signals that you don't matter,  
Reclaim your worth - as a gem and a treasure,
Permit to lighten your burden and let the healing begin.  
Forgiving yourself is a journey to find true love within.

From the very beginning, we were clear about our chosen paths and destinations.
You ventured off to the east, while I headed north, my heart racing with anticipation.
Yet we cross paths again, despite our carefully planned navigations.
The programmer must have planted a glitch in the Earth's rotation.

My logic keeps pointing to all that doesn't make sense.  
Yet, I listen to my heart and its weak, jumbled defense.  

I cling to frayed memories from the past,  
Replaying stories that weren't meant to last.  
I yearn for what never reflected my worth.  
Leaving me anxious and dimming my mirth.  

What I need is a big old box to bury pieces from the past.  
Say gratitude for the pain and growth that it brought.  
Then hurl it as far away as my arms can cast.  
Enjoy the weight lifted, a sense of relief at last.