My first infatuation 

as a hormonal teenager

was of an older boy with a flower tattoo

He found beauty in them 

and I found beauty in him 

he was a tree, tall and steady 

with roots growing in every which way

impossible for my mind to follow

I was a weed he could not get rid of 

a weed I thought he didn't want to get rid of 

we stay up past blooming hours

sharing all the parts of us not included in the typical bouquet 

all of my thorns raw and in the open

though he didn't see them as thorns

because he didn't see me as a flower

my mind was just a mind, not a garden

the roses blessed upon my face were just acne marks in his eyes

he was a tree

but I was a girl with a fire in my belly 

he was just avoiding a forest fire