I'm not the first person you loved.
I'm not the first person you looked at,
Heart pounding, body sweating,
With a mouthful of hopeful forevers.
Neither are you the first person I loved,
The first person I looked at,
Cheeks flaming, eyes daring to meet eyes,
Lips trembling with hopeful forevers.
No. We're not the first for romance.
I've grown thorns and you've grown leaves,
I became a steady creeper,
Whereas you became a stolid tree;
Too high, a bit untouchable,
Too slippery, roots too strong to uproot.
Maybe we needed to grow flowers,
Bear some fruits, before offering love.
Now I look at you and you look at me
Over a green table top and a coffee mug,
Burnt toast, make the same agreement never kept,
That Nutella is too bad, too expensive, never buy it again.
And I will have no forevers to offer you.
Instead, I'll creep over your trunk,
Invest my roots with yours,
Grow my flowers alongside yours.
And maybe two mushrooms.
(I have so much room in my heart for you.)
