Sweet Nothings

Do butterflies tickle?

Or just an allergic reaction to moments,

Containing you?

Coughing up laughs,

And unwanted smiles

Whom rip through their sewn on counterparts.

You’ve disrobed my soul

From the pain it was cocooned within.

It sprouts from a concrete garden

Past the withered petals that incarcerated hope

Watered by droplets of infatuation;

Condensation of a melting heart

That your light has glistened within

Unknown to you;

An anonymous love story