Potted flowers have a base
Something you didn’t have, couldn’t have
I remembered your smell yesterday while
Cleaning out the laundry room – the one with the
Cactus plant you loved and the huge windows with painted
Dragonflies in the corners
Some days I skip 6pm meals
My hair is starting to look like brown rose stems
The thorns landed in my hands and every time
I go to touch you I bleed first
I've started studying maps
The more I try to draw out my way
The more tangled my veins get, stuck to the beat
Of a song glued to the sun of our Monday morning
Pancakes and forehead kisses
I can't get enough of mint chocolate or turtles
The green ones seem too intrepid not to appreciate
The ones in my dreams don’t swim