restraint is an art

i intend 

to master.

but my jealousy is erupting

into fits of flowers:

roses for the look,

jasmine for the scent I wore,

one vine of honeysuckle to 

to bind you to summer where I was 

wet and still and your personal swimming pool

you could wade through,

catch some respite,


I’m sending

her a bunch with no clear note




wafting through your bedroom

door and sitting there

much like the way I wear the 


carefully arranged

and cool.

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