Like fine mature wine
Highly appreciated
Well recommended

There's nothing in me,
but emotion and thought
In a field of sunflowers
I am a lily, that's lost.

Screaming, "save me!"
Trust me I know the cost
"Pick me!"

Let me writher and rot
Please do not leave me in gloom
I will not bloom next summer,
And I blame you.

I need to die to be alright
Help me rise again,
Hold me in your hands

You say, "I will be your friend"
Then you leave me in the dark
Bring sunflowers to the eulogy
You told me I was not them, but a lily

I do not have eyes, yet I know I am art
I want to glitter with the stars
I know you are the one who tore me apart

Stuck my fragments inside of a jar
Set me on fire
My inclination is gone

See me,
in the sky, and not in the mirror

See me,
in the pasture, and not in your tears

See me,
on the ground, and not as your fears

Do not dream of me, but remember me for years

I hung the sunflower
from a piece of twine
in my wardrobe,
some months ago now.

Something once beautiful,
a gift from you to me,
a symbol of us,
together

and the happiness we found
in eachother
as we grew and bloomed
together.

So I hung it in the wardrobe
to preserve it.
To keep it. To admire it.
To cherish it for as long as we could.

And yet despite my attempts,
this sunflower’s petals
fell to the wardrobe floor,
it’s head shrivelling, wilting.

What could I do?
but leave it there
for days and weeks,
suspended amongst the clothes.

But the longer I left it,
unable to face
what I knew I had to do,
the worse this sunflower became.

We cannot restore
life into something
dead
and decayed.

I sharpened my shears and cut both
the thin twine of the sunflower,
and the thin twine holding us
together.

The dead sunflower hanging in my wardrobe
becomes the dead sunflower
lying amongst its own petals
on the wardrobe floor.

I am left to pick up the pieces
of what once was.
It was useless to try to preserve
when all flowers live, then die.