poetry

you are my end of summer sunflower lover

sunlight dances on my skin like fingertips

you and I’ve been breaking bones since we met

I spent years picking myself apart trying to find the reason why

I am not picking up petals from a lovesick relationship, packing up my feelings as we’re packing up the car

you feel like sunflowers, sunsets, and sea breeze

her bones grew roots

and these roots grew trees

and the trees called the flowers

and the flowers called the bees

can we get away for just a few days? I would take even just 24 hours if I

before the wind blows I want to pick up your old tired bones

you tell me they are green and I should know this because the men with green eyes always pull me in and you joke that maybe I am colorblind