Poetry, Uncategorized, Writing

(even though some flowers only bloom at night)

i remember when you were a flower
like, i saved the sunrise for you
each of your petals were yellow
and you would pluck them off
when you thought i wasn’t looking
and i would take you gently by the hand
and with shaking fingers
use sticky tape to reattach every single one
and it was messy and by the end of it
you didn’t look the way you did before
but i knew you were beautiful
not just to look at, you know?
but to actually see, when you let me in
and you were so fragile but at the same time
you refused to let me tear at my skin
my skin which paled in comparison to you
to the glow of you
and whilst i was a ghost haunting the very edges
you gave me the moon and told me that some people
fall in love with the moon the same way you fell in love
with the sun
and there’s nothing wrong with that
we were in different phases, chasing different rocks in the sky
yours was on fire and it burnt bright
whilst mine reflected yours, this small thing
and so on starry nights i lay out on the roof
and tried to count every single shining dot above my head
knowing that whilst i did so
you bathed in the light of your own star
and i would fall asleep hoping that your scars would heal
and that nobody would step on you or break your fragile stem
that nobody would rip up your roots
and that the sticky tape would hold and you would let people see
you know that –
i would store you careful, gentle
between wisp thin pages of an old heavy tome
but it would feel like a desecration
because you deserved the sunlight
so i couldn’t hide you away
even though
maybe i should have?
but then some nights would blur into days
and i’d still be sitting up on the roof
and the rows of corn would salute your sun
as it raised its head over the horizon
and i’d think
you’re going to see so many sunrises
you won’t count them
you probably won’t think they’re anything special
because you can get used to the most awesome of things
but let me tell you, and this is true –
you hold the sunrise in your heart
and i keep the moon safe in mine
and sometimes, you know, during the afternoon
you’ll see them both in the sky
and the moon never quite looks like it belongs
but it’s there and it’s this pale thing
and you can chase it if the car goes fast enough, the wind whipping your hair to your face
as you roll the window down
and i think –
that’s us –
the sun and the moon
we’re not supposed to co-exist, but when we do
when we do, we are perfect mirrors
and i know my light
is dull compared to yours
you are a flower
you are a sunrise
you are both delicate and powerful
the source of your own strength
and i wanted you to know that
because it seemed important
and your light allows me to reflect
and turn my own light back onto the earth
and i can’t make flowers grow
(even though some flowers only bloom at night)
(i don’t know why that is, do you?)
but i can make sure that you know
we may be a sky apart
but sometimes, you know, during the afternoon
you’ll see them both in the sky

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