Kept Flower

By JAWAD ALI

Dusty rose

when we were kids, I chose

her — before I even knew

what choosing meant, or what love could do

I just knew her name

and that it never left my brain

soft beige

in a garden, one day — a page

she bit the leaf of a flower in play

broke its stem and walked away

but I came after, quiet and slow

picked it up, and told no soul

faint green

I’ve kept it unseen

in a box, wrapped like gold

six long years of careful hold

the petals now crumble, the color's nearly gone

but to me, it’s still everything she touched and left on

deep blue

if only she knew

that I've never let it go

though we’ve grown, and still don’t know

what it means to meet — or what we might be

I still remember her, remembering me

burnt white

we’re out of sight

but both still free

no one holds her, and no one holds me

and so I wait — not for a promise or sign

just for the day our timelines align

Love doesn’t always bloom in full.

Sometimes, it stays pressed between pages —

forever soft. 🌸