She makes me rosy,
like a pocket full of posey
without the ashes.

I am warm,
with this fire, but it's not burning anyone,
we just pass it back and forth carefully,
and I see it ignite in her
and I feel it in me
no one is wilting,
we are just flowers
gleaming in the summer heat,
and I feel like I can be that,
a flower,
a rose,
with petals -
not of armor, of actual petals,
and I can let bees get close enough
to take articles of myself away,
and not feel less than.

I don't need to be a briar
I don't need to be a thorn
I just need my roots
linked to hers,
and that is all I can be,
together, for her.
© Kate M. Sine