There are sunflowers growing inside of me
Blooming in blackness.
They’ve never seen that romantic sun,
So why do they reach for it?

Bye curious boy.
Hello more hidden things:
The intention behind gestures only the petals know;
His eyes rescue me from across the room,
but he loves me not.
The thistles ripped up my favorite parts,
Until those flowers tore right through me
And touched that blonde dream-sun,
Finally, perfect light.

They caught fire at the sight of it.
Gone in a frenzy flame.
There’s an urn inside me now.
Street star on a fishing pole outside the window,
Are you gold this time?
Or just another thing baiting me?
Like those boys at this sleepover,
Their horseplay-that enigma ritual,
Dancing around it,
Never curious enough.

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