I firmly believe that infatuation is an
Alchemist frothed in coastal sea foam
Growing up,
I was obsessed with the minty shade and hue
That was akin to thick, milky sweet cream ice cream,
Affection was syrupy sweet as black sugar
Teenage attraction was like essence-laden
Coolers drenched in brine and singing bowls
That reverberated through every synapse of my body
Validation was unnecessary but highly coveted
By fire ants rebuilding their mound
Orchid bark, Venus fly traps, the woody scent of mulch,
Airy peach-tinted succulents for sale at a lanky price
Love was not a thing with feathers
But rather it was a thing covered in hardened Arthurian scales