I Never Asked for Flowers

I Never Asked for Flowers

I'm a hearts and flowers kind of girl—
and when I say that,
I don’t actually mean flowers.

I mean goodnight texts.
Are you home safe?
Good morning kisses—
the kind of love that lingers softly on the skin.

I mean hand-written notes,
scrawled in quick, shaky lines—
no elegant loops,
just hastily inked truths
you’ve longed to whisper in my ear.

I’m a hearts and flowers kind of girl.
I want that love that sounds like
road trip giggles,
afternoon snuggles,
hands on my cheeks,
a kiss pressed gently to my forehead.

I don’t need fancy dinners
or expensive gifts.
I just need you.
Your time—
scarce as it may be—
so I know there isn’t a second
you don’t ache to be near.

I deserve flowers.
And when I say flowers,
I don’t really mean flowers.
I mean kisses that make my knees weak,
your hand in mine
like it always belonged there—
pulling me close,
because you just needed
one. more. kiss.

I want excessive phone calls
for things that could’ve been texts,
but weren’t,
because you missed my voice.

Surprise visits
with nothing more than a hello,
but you came anyway—
because my arms around you feel like home.

And just so you know,
when I say I’m a hearts and flowers kind of girl,
I don’t just mean all that effort would be yours alone.

I mean I’ll ache to text you too—
to say anything
that might bring a smile to your face.
Because I melt at the curve of your grin.

You deserve hearts and flowers too—
someone who holds,
someone who listens.

When I say I’m a hearts and flowers kind of girl,
what I really mean
is less flowers,
and more heart.

Because if someone gives me theirs—
I’ll keep it safe.
Even if we part.