Our Love Wasn’t in Season

We bloomed too early, beneath skies that never knew how to stay, Chasing warmth from a sun that always looked the other way. You held me like spring held flowers not meant to grow, Our timing betrayed us, love was frost dressed in a glow. I whispered forever, but the wind replied with maybe, not now, And your heart—though near—was learning how not to allow. Our petals fell before they even learned to rise, And in each falling leaf was another quiet, unmet goodbye. You were rain in months that begged for sun to appear, I was soil unready, soaked in silence, soaked in fear. We were everything beautiful but doomed to fade, A romance misplaced in the wrong season’s parade. Every look we shared felt like a question half-spoken, Every kiss was soft but carried something broken. You gave just enough to make me believe, But not enough to make me stay, not enough to grieve. Love out of season is a bloom that won’t last, It lives in borrowed moments, haunted by the past. We weren't wrong—we were just too soon or too late, Two right people cursed by the wrong twist of fate...