To My Future Lover,

To my future lover,
Please try to understand where I first blossomed.
Try to see whose womb I was sprung from
And what seed made my roots.

These branches labeled arms will reach for you but often will retreat.
Please notice my hard grasp on my secrecy,
It’s something I have built for me.
Please know my hidden intimacy is a trait that fell from parts of my family tree.

My Father’s particular-ness stacked this trunk together with reason.
I now believe in answers to all responses and resort inward to solve problems.
He set my clock a few minutes fast to avoid the anxious belly that’s created when faced with being late.
Walking into a room that is already settled will never create calmness in me.
My Father and I hardly ever cry for attention but we are desperate to be heard.
He gave me rings of structure and a search for the truth.

During my youth,
My Mother painted me with curiosity.
She tattooed my chest with kindness and taught me to grow as big as I can all while never shadowing someone else’s dreams.
It seems I’ve got this tenderness in my bark…
It’s this spark of empathy that sets fire in my chest when searching for similarities.
I now always try to find similarities.

I’ve bloomed next to Sycamores and been cut down by Evergreens.
I’ve wilted in fields of Dandelions
And felt many different layers of dirt beneath my feet.
My history is Hickory.
My mind is Maple.
If you want to be with me,
You have to grow like me.

Like your roots are firmly planted, but wandering.
Like your branches brush gracefully with others.
Like your trunk is sturdy enough to support some of my fallen leaves if need be.
If you’re going to fall for me,
Please understand how I was produced.
Know how I try my best to use the negativity cut into me and somehow make it easier for those around me to breathe.

I come from a really strong family tree.

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