Today is the day I told your father you exist
And the roses he gave me are wilting on the table
We are not ready
We are not ready
We are not ready
The roses are wilting and I am afraid
We will too
Today is the day I told your father you exist
And the roses he gave me are wilting on the table
We are not ready
We are not ready
We are not ready
The roses are wilting and I am afraid
We will too
He will come into your life with lips smooth like buttercups
whispering forevers in the summertime.
Finding the softest parts of your heart
and making promises with good intentions.
He will wipe away your dewdrops in the morning
and find ways to hold your darkest moments
that will make you feel safe in your own structure.
He will paint you with sunshine and kisses.
He will grow you up like a daffodil,
stand you tall, and blossom by tomorrow.
He will be the thunderstorm that pushes you down,
dirt-covered, broken-stemmed, drooping under rainclouds
and he will not be the one.
And you will wonder how you will ever bloom again.
But you will.
You will.