I once killed a sunflower
by giving it too much water
and I read somewhere that that was beautiful,
because it meant I didn't know when
to stop giving.
But tell me,
all-knowing poet,
where is the beauty
if the end result was death?

I swear I’m not a love poet but

loving you
makes me scared of dying .

I know what it’s all about now,
I get why the sun rises
and the moon sets.
I understand why the stars shine
and the birds chirp.
I get why the heart beats
and the lungs breathe.

I get it now,
why I’m alive.