You are the abundance of stars only visible to the dreamer in the wake of night

The sun and its companions as they glow to shine a light on the surface of your skin

You are the mischief that forms the toothy grin on the face of a child’s curiosity

The everlasting glow on their faces as they question the world around them

And I am lost in translation, confused, amused and somewhat enchanted

To you I am the clouds that hide away your blue skies

But to me I am the ones that shield you from the glare of a jealous sun

And to each other we are foreign, bordered and misunderstood

Lost in translation I’m waiting for you to understand ,
That to you; you’re nothing, but to me; you’re my dreamland

Touch the flowers on my sundress as if you pick them from a field;
The field is my vast season-changing heart, and your hands are my ever-changing sun.
Pick apart the petals and touch my budding breast, I turn to ash.
Plant new, I burst into many colors that may not be my own.
But never try to harvest, never force my change.
You can love a potted flower, but I will never be yours.
The innocence of a white sundress, the dirt upon you when you rip my roots.
You may water me, I need you so...
But please know when my stem is weak,
And when my mind is through.
A flower does not know it's beautiful,
It never asked to be told so.
Keep your hands gentle, help me grow.
I only want to grow and bring golden sunflowers to your life.

ＪＪｓｂｄｋｓｎｄｋｋｄｍｘｍｊｓｈＪｕｓｔｌｅｔｍｅｄｉｅｍｍｍｋｂｈｂｘｊｄｎｘｎｂｄｊｘｂｄｎｘｎｎｘｎｘｎＩｍｓｏｔｉｒｅ­ｄｏｆｔｈｉｓｎｓｊｓ ｎｋｋｓｂｄｎｄｎｂｄｔｈｅｓｅ ｔｅａｒｓ ｗｏｎｔｓｔｏｐｊｄｊｄｎｎ ｚｎｊｓｎｎｄｕｄｎｄｋｄｋｎｆｋｄｍｓｓｎｆｎｊｄｎｄｎｎｄｂｄｂｄｂｄｎＷｈｙｔｈｅｐａｉｎｓｔｉｌｌｌｉｖｅｓｉｎ ｍｙｈｅａｒｔｊｊｘｎｘｊｘｊｄｎ ｍｙｋｄｊｄｖｊｓｎｄｊｃｊｎｄｎｄｎｃｎｘｋｘｎｋｘｎｄｋｄｋｊｄｎｓｋｘｈｊｓｈｄｊｄｄｎｄｅＩｍｓｏｆｕｃｋｉｎｇｔｉｒｅｄ­ｍｓｎｎｄｋｓｎｘｏｎｓｈｘｉｄｎｋｘｎｄｊｓｊｄｂｊｄｋｓｌｍｓｎｄｊｊｄｂｄｉｓｂｄｊｊｄｋｓｎｄｊｄｈｂｓｎｄｎｎｄｊｄｊｄ­ｎｄｎｄ


Ｙｏｕｌｌｎｅｖｅｒｕｎｄｅｒｓｔａｎｄ ｍｅ

I regret the snow
It didn't make any sense to hear from a girl who hasn't known anything but the Northeast, but she wasn't done
I miss the grass

She was listening to country music
It ripped up her insides and forced her to spit them out
Hiraeth- homesick for a place you've never been
She stitched ankle bands that looked like Grecian sandals but had no souls
She went out and stood on rain soaked wood
I would have kissed her if she wanted to be kissed but she just wanted to be warm

I don't blame her, I guess
Seattle radio shows don't talk about the rain because it causes mass depression
But I gave her something to love
Something other than jump ropes made of hoses and raspberry thorns
I don't melt when the sun dissipates
I could have held her...
She left yesterday.

I stalked our horoscopes;
I deciphered the coffee grounds.
I even took the time piecing
the broken mirror back together
to read between the cracks,
in hopes I'd receive a sign.

The Universe told me to
stop searching the unknown
for answers I already know.
My coffee grounds suggested
that I needed to sleep, and
the shattered mirror crooned:
"Put yourself back together
before you try to mend another."