Whenever I look at you, I conjure a world of forests we once walked next to. A few years ago, I saw ourselves frolicking within it without a care, through the dormant trees and fallen leaves as they crackle beneath our feet. Nothing at that time felt real, it was a fantasy after all. Whenever I see you now, all I imagine are landmines lounging around you as you stand there waiting for me to approach, acting as if the dangers didn’t exist. Each careful step towards you filled me with so much uncertainty that I’d rather have you come forth with ease instead. I’d rather have this barrier, I’d rather create distance, I’d rather write letters to you and have you write back to me, I’d rather not look towards your direction, I’d rather not see you, than to walk that path.

While walking around, I recently found a remote place beyond the forest. There lie fields of untouched feverfew where you don’t reside. It’s there that I’d rather create barriers, create distance, and write letters. Maybe if I create a bed from the soil, the surrounding flowers will grow new eyes for me that can look towards your direction and see you approach me from the shadows of the woods. Perhaps, the sense of danger will fade and I’ll be able to approach you again, or maybe I’ll cherish writing to you forever. Until then, I’ll stay indefinitely, blossoming within the feverfew.