I always thought that if you were a season, you would be spring. Cheerful and handsome. This is not your favorite season - we all know your undeniable love for winter - but it suits you the most.

And after you asked me why, I decided to try to find an answer. I always thought of you as a flower in the spring, the same ones that bloom and know the world for the first time, it's the same feeling I have every time I see your eyes. Like you're seeing the world for the first time, falling in love with you for the first time.

You always questioned me that if you were spring, what a flower you would be. I think it would be the sunflower, the sun flower. You're like the sunflower to me, it brings me light in the darkness that meets me and warms me when I'm feeling the cold of this lonely world. You are my sunflower, after all.

But you are not whole spring. You're autumn too, dear. You're unstable, you kill like autumn. You always knew how it bloomed beautifully in the spring and died slowly in the fall. You became the most beautiful sunflower in the spring, and you spluttered in the wind in the fall.

I have never told you my poems with dedications to you, but, you know, they are all sad and over flowers. About flowers, love and death. Death ... Such a strong word. Do you know why I never gave you my poems? Because you would know everything, it would not be my spring with the beginning of autumn and the smell of daisies.

And that's why I vomi