You are my sun
And I, your sunflower
My life revolves around
You who shines on me

And yet at times, I feel
Like I am more the moon
Our hearts are one
Yet our minds cannot meet

It feels as though we are
Forever on opposing ends
One always overshadowed
Inevitably by the other

You are the sun
Bold and bright yet brash
Sitting high in the sky
Caring and yet cruel

At times, I am the moon
Bleak and bereft
Surrounded by stars
But equally so of darkness

I wish to hide in that darkness
And wait until the day
For the eclipse that shall bring us
Truly together again

You are my sun
and I, your sunflower
I look only to you
I bloom for no one else

The ardent love
Planted in my heart
It blossoms fervently
Violently for you

You mean the world
And so much more to me
You’re my piece of heaven
Fate has sent you to me

You are the dream
I can hardly believe
Never thought possible
Coming true just for me

only if time could heal anything, it seals what you were going through.

only if pain could vanish like that, you just adjust to live with it.

A sunflower
Growing in a garden of roses
Searching for its home
Always wandering,
Alone.

A sunflower,
With auras of red,
White,
And yellow.
Hues entwined
In a weave so painfully mellow.

In a garden of roses,
Moving, growing, searching
A sunflower remains
Alone.

The forbidden love of a sunflower
It stands up tall and proud as it shows off its morning yellow
A sunflower simply can not love
The end draws near with every shadow that passes over
When darkness hovers, the dear sunflower closes its delicate petals and says a final goodbye
It falls just so it can pick itself up and try again when the morning sun comes

This morning,
I am a mourning sunflower

Willing to burn than
lose my deity’s warmth

The sun rose early
to regain her warmth
with a kiss from her lover

In a filed of sunflowers,
only one worshiped
the sun’s burning desire

If you wish to grow these
sunflowers within my blue walls

Know that I am a house
the sun never visits, but I have:

Vacant rooms
with burning lovers

Floors
with footprints of dead florists

Albums
with nostalgic photographs of her

A single bed
on my scorching roof

Stairs
that creak to the rhythm of my growing pain

Doors
with engraved haikus

Mirrors
that reflect her image in front of my blue walls