Everyone a flower
longing to be picked.

Looking at you was like staring into the blaring sun, first a subtle beauty followed by tremendous pain.

I love your brown eyes, they’re Autumn living within a soul.
A walking soul that see’s the beauty of life through their own perspective.
I can only imagine that they would see the world golden.

I am the sun.
I rise, and I fall into a sunset.
I circle the world, only to return back to you.

Time takes place in moments. A lot of the time I want to keep still.
Capture the moment.
Become the air and live amongst every atom in our universe.
To understand life, but to live it without questioning... wondering...
To be the air, or to be nothing at all.

How easy it is to become a poet, when something traumatising attacks at our hearts.
How easy it is to write these words and feelings, but to never speak them aloud.

For what it’s worth, rebuilding this broken star may take awhile, but it’ll all be rewarding when it shines again.

I’d prefer to be a star.
Lonesome in the enormity of the night sky.
At least I’d know that somewhere, at sometime, someone will always be appreciating me.

You were like the moon.
You had your phases.
Bad ones, good ones.
Ones that would end us.
Ones that would demote me from the sky.

I want to paint in the sky,
but I am afraid that I will ruin the tranquil beauty of blue.

Flowers like you bloom well in the harshest conditions; environments.
So go and bloom in the desert. Go and bloom in the soggy wetlands. Bloom in the crevices of an ocean rock. Bloom in concrete.
Do what you need to bloom, to test the theories of others. To challenge. To live.

And when I am lost, empty, puzzled.
I’ll float out into the Ozone layer and look back at Earth.
I’ll think about what I have.
What surrounds me; nature, people, cities.
And it’s enough.
It’s home.
So when you’re struggling, draw your mind to your home, your peace.
Our Earth.

Worn out. No gas, no flame.
No shimmer, no shine.
I, another dying star in the jet black sky.

I am a jet black summers sky at night

I love your angry greens, your blues, your greys.
Your oceanic rarity.
Your swells.
Your tides.
Your storms out at sea.
Your horizon.
Your love to reflect the sun and the moon, to wear it against your waves.
Ocean; I adore you.

I’ve learnt that giving up on you
was the best thing for me
while I was still blooming

Midnight sea, what are you doing to me?
The feelings, the blues.
You could call it among the sad.
The rough waves. Emotions. Tears.
Slowly breaking down.
Crashing to the shore, arriving just before 12am.
Midnight sea, why can’t you see me?
Why can’t you feel me?
Why can’t you hear my desperate calls?
Midnight sea, just love me.

The city a polluted mess,
yet;
flowers still grow here.

The sun cries.
Lonely in the sky,
where birds fly- they pay no attention.
Clouds roll by, fading.
Sunflowers fighting for warmth- using him,
only to close back up at night.

I go to sleep when the sun is just about to rise,
I wait up for him,
God;
I just want to say “hi”.
See you at sunrise...

You are my sun,
so keep setting only to rise back to me in the morning.

Give me a wish, or a taste of your burning kiss.
Give me a fragment of your existence.
Let me put you on display for the world to witness.
Holding you up to the dark sky at night,
you glimmer and burn a magnificent light.

You can be a small flower in life.
You may struggle to bloom.
To settle your roots.
To have the perfect position for the sunshine.
What you really need to do is **** your garden.
Your field.
Then, and only then, open your petals as wide and beautiful that they can go.
And just bloom.
Sometimes all we need is to empty those holding us back, only then in order to rise.
To rise to the sun.

To be a sad blue sky on a perfect day...

And even still in this chaos,
I, myself a flower desperately fighting to bloom.
To survive and thrive,
the power needed to stay alive.

When I am sad I will return to the sky.
For it is calm, cooling,
embodied with cloud- white angles reflecting the Sun’s light.
Here I am free,
no blues,
just time to breathe;
goodnight.

I want to live in your bloom.
Like a red blood cell in your vein, forever apart of you.
watching you gracefully conquer life,
maturing into the flower you needed to be.

Sunflower roam far,
dance under the moonlight,
kiss a star.

Lately I’ve been feeling like malevolent raindrops, yet there are no clouds around, or rain predicted.
It was just the storm inside of me.

I miss our love like the sun during winter.
What I have now learnt is how to survive during the cold,
and how much more I am enjoying the cooler months.

You a galaxy,
beautiful,
captivating,
rare in sight.
But yet, too dangerous to explore.

I’ve been planting flowers for so long,
that I have forgotten to stop and appreciate them.

Love is watching seeds grow and blossoming into flowers,
knowing that only you have planted them.

Rose in a upright-full pose,
wear your thorns as your clothes.
Sun ruthless,
soil dry.
There really is no ‘good’ guy.
Be patient, be kind.
Another will pick you as they come by...

Tonight, in this moonlight.
I watch from afar,
as you fall in love with every star-
each a burning enthralling sight-
me a body full of water,
bone and mass;
your eye never shining me light.

In my head there is a bed full of roses.
Erected,
reaching for hope,
in all sorts of poses.
Some white, some red.
Others wilt, sad,
lying dead- out of dances

Days getting colder,
My heart a big ball of broken down smoulder,
Ice all over.
My heart clear, see through, the whitest cellophane.
My heart aching in reminder, May rang.
A phone call like no other, rather a goodbye.
Winter later called in to say hi.

Tend the flowers in your heart.
Mend them.
Give them time to sow.
Allow them to grow.

Having little love for yourself,
Is almost like having no room in your shoes to grow; or to be comfortable.
It’s the same as a plant needing a bigger *** to thrive and for its roots to grow.
Having little love for yourself doesn’t mean you need to hide in the dark of your own show; your life.
Having little love for yourself is like trapping your heart and mind into a cage together, seamlessly squashed, claustrophobic.
So of course you’re going to feel down,
And of course some days you won’t feel confident.
These days are aloud to happen.
But, you have to have power in yourself to let a new day roll in.
Unlock the cage, let the bird roam free for a while.
And breathe. And laugh. And stay social.
And do what makes you happy. And; most of all, keep the door to the cage of your heart open to yourself, and only yourself. And practice. Practise your love. Your self love.

I shout aloud I love you- but you never hear.
Nor were you close enough.
I could never reach you,
Up and out there, living.
Most days I just wanted a kiss from you to taste your solar flares.
To risk my life.
To feel just one touch of you.
Yet, here we are, in one galaxy, living in different dimensions as it feels; with a hundred million miles between us.
Sun, why cannot we become one?

I love how clouds look like draped curtains- the fairytale type.
I find it enthralling that most look like a heavy mass, puffy and angry- yet only a body of water and air.
I love how they live memories.
How they shape the sky, as if they were blankets- comforting.
How they wear and reflect the sunset.
How they never sleep, enduring long days and nights.
I love that there are so many types of clouds, almost like different races.
I love how uniquely (but simply) that they are made.
I love that they are live art, an installation.
I love that they are in this world, my world.

They were a pair,
two stars on the verge of colliding in the galaxy,
their love pulled them together like a black hole.
Their disagreements threaded them through it.

I don’t care if you like roses.
He’s a f*cking sunflower.
Shower him with light,
love him.
For he is a king set for the sun.

I wanted you to be my Autumn leaf.
Glittering gold hiding beneath.
Smiling at you, while getting cinnamon out of my teeth.
Sun warm,
cool breeze.
Hold my hand as we walk through crunchy leaves.

You may be human, but you’re also a flower.
You hold so much power as you walk through April,
no avail.
Head risen.
Petals curtly tucked away.
A rush.
Heart closed.
Walking past the naked trees,
you shiver from the Autumn breeze.
You wait for Spring,
although knowing you haven’t met winter.
You think that this year your heart will freeze.

Little flower behave.
You’ll get your turn,
your chance.
Just wait until the sun rises,
then you can dance.

Eyes a devil blue.
Drowning those who swim in your hue.
A captivating, gorgeous blue.
Distracted by the iris, the pupil a black hole- a virus- ******* the stars out of people.
Pulling them to the edge of your eye, you watch them from afar, as they try and survive.

Lady lilac,
reserved,
modest,
shy.
You don’t need no guy.
Live and point your dreamy pearlescent petals to the sky.

Influx of leaves is all that my soul would need.
In this light,
waiting for the moon to appear in the dark night,
I lay amongst the golden ages leaves.

Petals brown- shrivelled.
Not pretty enough to live in this ground.
Silent sound.
Mother Earth bound.
No flowers bloom,
no floral crown.
I’m just an ugly daisy- a clown.
The sun’s love for me, never found.
For now, I’m in search of a new home ground.