Flowers After Spring

Some loves are never spoken.
They live in glances held too long, in hands that almost touch, in sunsets watched by someone else while your eyes stay where they shouldn't.
Some feelings grow quietly.
They take root in shared laughter, in prayers whispered at night, in the space between two people who know each other too well to pretend ignorance.
Faith becomes a question. Friendship becomes a boundary. And desire learns to speak only in silence.
Lilies bloom where they shouldn't. Beautiful enough to be noticed. Fragile enough to be left untouched.
Not everything that grows is meant to be claimed.
Some things are only meant to be felt.