honesty with hydrangeas

for a girl whose name i will not pen, for whom my heart aches this very morning. poised at my table, i’m straight-backed, straight-laced, ingesting a Coca-Cola whose sugary bite is no competition for the sugary feelings that have buried themselves way down in me… as if they were a thousand tiny caskets lying just beneath the surface, waiting for a great flood to part my pores and bring them up. and each casket would open, revealing a different feeling for you… each walking forth with a different spray of flowers that they’d like to place at your feet.

timidness would come with lilies, triumph with tulips, hope with bluebonnets, and love with gladiolas. heartbreak with roses, forgiveness with lilacs, and honesty with hydrangeas.

even i would have to admit that this would be an awfully strange sight, but it’s the only way that i can imagine that it would be… and oh darling, wouldn’t it be something to wait for? but for now, because patience is such a terribly enthusiastic virtue to tend to and care for, i plant what i’m feeling for you in privacy, in a garden called my heart, where the soil has been sown with nothing but cotton seeds for the greater part of two years.