May Flowers
Track 7 of Spring Fling
[ Lyrics ]
Fell for you in May, damn. Saved your voice note titled ‘hey’— didn’t mean to, swear I played it once. Now it’s 2 a.m. and I’m pressing replay, hearing you say my name like it’s still ours. My best friend laughs—says I’m glowing different, like I carry your laugh in my pocket. I tell her it’s spring, just the bloom in the air, but I’m the one who’s blooming, scared and unaware. I don’t ask for plans, I don’t text past ten, but I catch myself hoping you’ll break the rule again. One ‘good morning’ would unravel me— soft like petals, deep like roots underneath. Fell for you in May, damn— wasn’t supposed to happen like that. You were a season, not a life plan, but I bloomed too fast in your hands. Fell for you in May, damn— now I’m tangled in what could’ve been. And I hate that I’m soft, hate that I’m tender— but I fell, and I fell, and I fell. Saw a thrift-store coat that you’d wear, bought it just to smell like you there. Left it hanging by my bed, a ghost in the room, a silent wish in denim and wool. I watch your IG—no, I’m not obsessed, just checking if your world still feels like rest. You posted a sunset, said ‘peace out for a while’— and I stood there wondering if I’m worth the dial. We said no futures, said no names, just weekend sparks and window flames. But I catch myself mapping out June, thinking ‘what if he changes his tune?’ Fell for you in May, damn— wasn’t supposed to happen like that. You were a season, not a life plan, but I bloomed too fast in your hands. Fell for you in May, damn— now I’m tangled in what could’ve been. And I hate that I’m soft, hate that I’m tender— but I fell, and I fell, and I fell. I didn’t mean to… Fall this deep in a borrowed bed. I didn’t mean to… Make a home out of your head. You never lied, I just believed— in the way you held me like I was *it*, even when you swore I wasn’t. Fell for you in May, damn— I’m still trying to walk back that. You were a fling, not a forever man, but you planted love where I had a plan. Fell for you in May, damn— now my heart’s a garden I can’t command. And I hate that I’m soft, hate that I’m tender— but I fell, and I fell, and I fell. Fell in May… Damn.