Slowly I'll become that flower you loved,
A sunflower, a rose, a tulip bud.

I'll twist, I'll turn, I'll wilt, I'll forever be this guilt.

Slowly I'll be there, and slowly will I twist and fall in,
Throwing myself into the ocean where I can begin.

So shallow, so empty,
Is this all that there is left?

Slowly, slowly I'll be that flower.

Slowly I'll be the one in power.

Slowly I'll find a place where I can open my petals with grace,
Slowly I'll live once again.

Cautiously you will find me on the clifftop,
This time I'll be smiling.

This time I'll no longer wilt,
I'll be tall and strong emptying myself of that guilt.

This time the sun will bless me with all of it's hymn,
and turn your gun.

It’s when I talk about you to the stars that lights up the sky.

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 watching Spring bloom in the reflection of your eyes.

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.

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.

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.

Imagine yourself in the soil... that’s where you start, where you’re born.
After you must grow, blossom and bloom, then wilt.
This is your life, each day something new. First you must learn to survive before you start.

Waiting for the sun among the flowers

I’m in love with the sun
I’m in love with the sun
I’m in love with the sun
I’m in love with the sun
I’m in love with the sun
I’m in love with the sun

My favourite colour arrives at sunset.
Warm glows of orange and yellows,
a blend of gold.

Can I be yellow and full of large petals and sun like you???

Don’t be the flower that exists for the sun.
Live by it.
Be it.
Grow as it.

Simply, a flower cannot blossom without sunlight and water.
So be resourceful, make decisions for yourself, and plan how and when you want to bloom.
And who you want beside you when you do.

You my sun love me like you love your moon.

You give her your nights letting her see the world,
Dance amongst it- bathe in it.

Every night she ends up somewhere new,

Every few minutes new life that is born is born on this earth will see her,
Fathom and wish to taste her beauty.

You too wish you could taste her,
But you were afraid of scorching her,
Her heart.

So when it is night,
You travel for day.

You watch her from afar hiding over the top of the earth,
Watching her rise.

She is so bold and beautiful,
Absolutely beaming.

You just sit and as she slowly dances her way up into the sky,
You smile.

You gave away your night life just for her.

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

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

All the nights without you, is like a flower at night missing their sun.

Tangerine gold will fall. So stand close, if not, stand tall. Catch them. They’re magic.
They’re this seasons happiness and it’s selling fast.
Oh leaves of Autumn,
Won’t you last.

I let the sun roam,
dance,
and dive all over my body.

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.

The softest of pinks,
Much tougher than you think.
Upon seeing shades of red,
You’d think that they’ve seen nothing but the dead.
Instead;
They endure new blooms,
Garden grooms,
Pinches from males,
Often a bouquet of sales.
The colour pink,
Was more beautiful than you think.

The flower wilts,
Tired, sad, dead.
With the scorching sun and it's burning blaze,
You cry.
It's white hair of age has seen it all,
but it never expected that it's own petals would fall.
They fall surrounding the burning ground,
Once was it fluffy and luscious green,
Once had it fulfilled every flower's dream.
Once did it hold events where teenagers would lay,
Where children would play,
Where kites were thrown into the sky.
Once did the flower wish it were a dream.
A wish for a world that wasn't so catastrophically destroyed.

Feeling cold,
Feeling dead,
With nothing else but dirt beneath my head.

You fill my ground with seeds,
This was all that my world would need.
Slowly I feel them tangle,
Their roots start to mingle.

Flowers bloom and grow from my skull,
Further resting me in a peaceful lull.

Sunflowers, daisies and tulip buds,
Lay all around me brightening the mud.
Slowly, slowly my ground is beautiful once again.

Slowly, slowly my body is repaired,
But yet I am still questioning the when?

Wanting to live again just like them.

The honeybee lands onto the small flower,

A friendship blooming immediately.

The bee talks of pollen and how wonderful it is,

But the flower is silent.

The flower is afraid that it will be used time and time again,

Endlessly dying in a fantasy that we call love.

The moon phase rises over the naked city,
the inessential buildings soon just become nothing.

She walks the street with a beat in her step.
Hands cut from the rose thorns,
petals falling,
flowers dying.

She felt happy.
But misery laid nothing more less to the flowers.

Amongst the footsteps the cries could be heard.
The naked city wanted nothing more than to cover itself.
To hide behind plain sight.
It no longer wanted to be the city that filled everyone’s dreams,
the city that never slept.
It just lured for some time to shut it’s eyes,
to be nothing to this world.

To sleep.

The naked city was raw,
beautiful at most.
It had a unique glow,
kind of like the Moon.

It would just turn on and light up everyone’s night.
Make them want to write about it,
dine out.
Have the light gaze down on them.

It was somewhat.. magical.

The Sun rotates,
kissing the Earths surface.
Countries mould against its blistering lips.
A burning blaze,
Heatwaves,
Scorches,
Fires,
Love,
Lust.

The Sun was what gave life, it’s sweet love, others only saw as toxic.

The humid heat made people go crazy,
Others falling into a love daze.

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

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...

That fierce storm inside of me is determination and strength;
not all bad things come out of a thunderstorm. Remember that.

I love you, even though at times you are the **** in my garden.

We draw and come closer on grey rainy days. There is something about the comfortability and serenity in listening to the rain, while laying with the one you love.

Everyone a flower
longing to be picked.

Leave your garden, and come live in my heart.

For once the daisy had not been seen as strong or beautiful,

It was seen as tiny and insecure.

And I am worried that I too will become bland and boring like your window box flowers.

She grew into the moon, becoming the women she was destined to be.
Bright, beautiful, and independently alone up in the sky.

And I am worried that I am a flower that you don’t want around for Spring.

All yellow. All beautiful. All sprung. Blooming.
Yellow mania.
Fields of Kings.
Sunflowers, let’s let Autumn do it’s thing.

You are small. You are a flower.
Don’t let yourself fall beneath their shoe.
You’re stronger.
You fighter.
You handle the rain. You handle the heat.
You handle the changing seasons.
So here I am, yet to tell you;
You will bloom again.

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.