Jasmine

you blossom

and I am flushed,

flustered in lust

utterly taken with

your breath and bias for sunlight.

over the years I’ve watched you grow towards the beams

and I used to hate you

but I commend you

for being willing to look at a fire so blinding

just so the sun spots in your eyes would layer another reality over your world.

most people would pick up a pair of rose colored glasses,

but you, sweet flower,

like the thrill of vulnerability as the first step in your wall-building process.

your paradox, much like my own,

drives me wild.

-A.