My favourite thing about the sun and you is that you both hold warmth that I crave for.

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.

Orange Poppy.
Pull your gun.
Please, don’t look so glum.
Smile.
Pull your head up,
Tuck your chin.
Be the flower your mother taught you to be,
Before you sin.

Today flower,
know your worth.
To bloom,
to thrive,
to be beautifully alive.

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

Jupiter moon,
You make my heart swoon.
Different to mine and earth’s,
You have worth.
Although you’re not a star,
You can equally shine and light up the galaxy from afar.

I want to plunge myself into the sun.
I just want to know what his comfort is like.

Radiate warmth and happiness like the sun.
Love like you have never loved, and live as if your life has just begun.

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

The moon-
when she is dressed in the enormity of the thick, gothic black sky-
blanketed in stars,
truly is a magnificent sight.

The girls pants were the colour of lava,
The girl loved sweet doom and drama.

The stars in the sky were acid green,
The boy she loved became very mean.

The cacti had peach flowers,
The clouds would endlessly weep for hours.

She lies quietly on her bed,
The weak flower was her dread.

She closes her eyes and dreams of a new place,
Never wanting nothing more to head out into the dark space...

I’ve planted flowers,
magic,
and lust in you.
So please don’t leave,
for I am afraid I’d lose myself to you too.

Each of us exist in our own moments,
just like a star we have one thing;
that is to shine.

Lick your lips.
Feel the bliss.
Autumn wish.
Taste the colours,
Chase the leaves.
Believe in dreams.

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

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 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.

I’ve heard it all before. Filling someone with love and leaving them, would be how you **** someone.
Just as it would be the same for planting a flower, but never watering it.
As humans, we live for love.

You breaking me in two was everything that I needed to rebuild myself into a better version of who I am.
Thanks.

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.

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 want to kiss your lips and taste the pollen,
your care and love for nature is shown.

I am the rain,

And you are the forest floor.

I flood you.

I fill every crevice.

I cause you pain.

I drown you.

But yet you still thrive.

Why can’t men be flowers too?
Even if he blooms a flower with black petals,
he’s still beautiful and rare.
He can still show affection and care.

Everyone is a flower in the rarest form.
Men, women, and my beautiful others, I love your specimen.
It’s rare.
It’s you.
Thank you.

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.

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

I stand here in the city.
The tall buildings tower over me,
And the wind cascades around me.

The children and people wear fur coats.
I wear Gucci.
They smell like whiskey and cigarettes,
But I pay no attention.

I see the lights that the city visions,
I hear the cries that the city screams.

It was perfect.  

Because I was here amongst the skyscrapers,
And within the atmosphere of life.

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.

Orange, yellow and brown.
Is what fills my ground.
Autumn gold. Orange leaves.
Sunflower petals. And the brown seeds.
This was just a typical Autumn dream.

Melodramatic sky you have a powder blue cry.

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.

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...

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

Don’t forget about me when my flowers are shrivelled, brown and gone.
Remember my blooms.

Get some sun,
Don’t be so glum.
Sugarplum,
Put a smile on that balm...

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.

Fall in to where it can begin.
Moon phase,
Orchid days.

Sweet bliss,
Wanting nothing more than to try your American kiss.

Heatwave.
Scorching skies,
White clouds in my love disguise.

I lay wanting to heal my pain.

Moon phase.
You cry,
Tears drowning flowers that lay nearby.
You stay,
Most don’t know why.

You live a lilac lie.

You take my Moon phase,
And I want to know why.

My tides,
My waves,
Reach my shoreline.

My sand was empty,
Completely still.

Now,
The grains of sand stand by me,
Pulling me at the knees.

Moon phase,
This night.
Emptying myself solemnly to the dark starlit night.

The raindrops race,
All falling in a synchronised pace.
They fall hard like tears,
It will seem as though this race will last for years.
The immediacy in their run,
Could almost be as fast as a gun.
With a bang to the window glass,
Half of these raindrops couldn’t be arsed.
Together,
The raindrops race.
Synchronised they fall from f*ing space.

“Your mouth tastes like raspberry”.
And yours tasted like everything I needed, that I wanted.
Every time I kiss you, I feel the same energy and power that lights up cities.
It’s pure f*ing joy and excitement.
It’s what feeds my existence.
What keeps me alive and hungry for more.

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

My tears can no longer seek home in my eyes,
They refuge to the mainland- flooding and filling every crevice- they take away life.
Toxic and hot,
They spurt out as if they are small spits of lava.
I cause pain and devastation,
I **** nature.

Rich season.
High in value.
Retro gold.
All sunflowers beauty sold.

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.

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

I feel like I am running the same race as the sun, living everyday.

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

The moon breaks through the sky.
Tides of ocean try to touch the clouds.
Nothing but silence.
No break to the air.
Only salt could be tasted,
Little to spare.

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.

Sky babe,
Autumn leaf.
Hello to the small flower beneath.
Beneath this storm you stand strong.
I’m proud, darling stay safe, fight for your ground.