You stayed;

You left;

Like allergies in the spring.

After flowers came and went,

so did you.

The festival came too late.

I didn't even get to celebrate you.

You have no idea

how much I value your soft, delicate petals;

Your bodice freckled with pollen;

The way morning dew glistened on your leaves;

The way I craved the nectar from your lips.

Your lips.

Your tulips.

Your two lips,

Like honey-glazed buds,

Drew me with a bumble.

Made me clumsily fly in the space around you:

Fluttering near but never landing.

If only your roots weren't tied to the ground;

If only I could sway you towards me;

If only your stem weren't as strong;

If only you'd stop drawing me in,

Then I would be happy.

Let me be:

I'll let you, too.

Cover your petals,

Your bodice,

Your leaves,

Your nectar,

Your lips.

Cover it with the rain that pours:

The same rain that drags me down with it.

Cover your contradictions

With the wisteria that winds around you.

Let it engulf you

Until you lose yourself in the vines,

Only then will I bumble back

And hope that the azalea suffocated.