where do wildflowers
come from?
here
in morning light
you can see
the light brown in my hair.
lying here,
time goes by
before we know it.
the sun
is drawing you —
long forehead,
then the curve
of your nose,
the top
of your lip
aglow;
dust
like stars
in the air
around us.
the pink sky
is reflecting on your skin,
and you're thinking
about something.
never planned
or calculated,
wildflowers grow
naturally
where they're supposed to;
where there is
a sign
of nurture.
turning to me,
shoulder against the window;
you —
a silhouette.
the golden hour
envelopes
us;
i
giggle
against your teeth.
it never
felt right,
but
i'm moving
out
and you can keep
the apartments,
cafés
and the good parts.
in morning light —
this is
perfect,
but
there are no wildflowers;
there never were.