They say a picture is worth a thousand words
Well these words are worth a couple pictures
They are some of the most important ones
Like “I’m sorry”.. “Thank you”..and my favorite one,
“I love you”
and though I’ve never needed them
I have always wanted them
And every time I see them I ask myself if I do not deserve them
Will there ever come a time when one of them will remind you of me?
I know that I am not a sunflower,
Because the sun tends to always be on the side that I am not looking at
Perhaps I’m more of a lotus flower, whose muddy waters you’d rather stay away from
Or am I a rose and you are simply afraid that my thorns will hurt you?
What I really feel like
Is a field of dandelions... full of all the things you’d wish to change in me..
and yet sometimes I can’t help but to think that perhaps,
I am not a flower at all
Perhaps I have been pulled so far from my roots that I can no longer grow
My petals are damaged and I have stopped blooming
Maybe that is why I want but can not ask for some simple flowers..
I just hope that the day I receive them it won’t be by grace..
No I’m sorry
No thank you
No I love you
But rather an “I miss you..”

Right beside my grave

I’ve been planted
with sunflower seeds,
been irrigated once a day
with condition of conceived forecast,
been left under the sun to grow and burn,
So I grew and bloomed and blossomed and flowered
and opened my ****** petals for the hungry hornet to see,
I felt the sting and the slit and the pain and the *****,
My pistil now empty, I ached and wept
for the hornet fluttered and flew and travelled,
pollen on his lips, I wept and shattered,
I birthed a daughter, beautiful and tall,
but I dwindled and shrunk and weakened and waned,
felt fingers on my stem, pulling and plucking,
Petals depleted, dried and drained,
wasted away, a hornet on its way

sunflowers grow in the garden
that is my mind
but sunflowers can never bloom
if they can't see the light

The thing about
a sunflower and I

Is the sunflower would
wither if the sun stopped
kissing her every morning

And just like the sunflower
needs the sun to flourish,

I need you near me
for I bloom by your kisses

And just like the sunflower
worships the morning sun,

I worship your
cold almond eyes

her golden hair
and gingerbread stare
light a flare in my heart
and i fall apart
head over heels
this his how it feels
to be in love with a sunflower

I like to believe that I am a sunflower.
Blooming beautifully and shining with all the grace and poise of a dainty little winged fairy, flitting from petal to petal,
sun rays in my hair and tinkling laughter falling from my pointed shoes;
On these days, I am happy.
I am myself, and I feel on top of my game.

Of course, there are some days
when the sun doesn't look like it's shining;
it doesn't even feel warm.
Where, then, does the sunflower turn
on the days of clouds and rain?
Does it wilt, or close up,
spin around in circles maybe?

I like to believe that I am a sunflower.
In my imagination, sunflowers on rainy days
go on a little hike.
They pull up their roots from the earth,
and start walking in any direction they feel is right.
Sometimes they walk with friends.
Sometimes they feel better alone.
Sometimes, when the sun starts shining again,
they're not in the same field as they once were.
Sometimes they find a familiar, empty flowerbed,
and sometimes they grow in a newly tilled one.
Sometimes they're admired at by people passing by,
and sometimes they're tossed over like a sad, limp vegetable.

And that's okay.
That's okay.
People say that it's okay.
Even when it's not.
Maybe, if I think about it enough times -
it will come true.

That that's okay.
It's okay.
You're okay.
I'm okay.

You are a messy soul
Wandering through life
What I offer is love
Too much for you to repay
Worry not, as I acknowledge that
Guilt is a toxin to the soul
I hope you can see that
A field of sunflowers
Waits for you everytime

The night is young,
the night is ours.
Hand in hand,
we'll steal the stars
and all the lonely sunflowers
with no sun to face.