The way of flowersI knew I was rapidly approaching death, and I felt no fear. The summer was long, and I was tired. My flower had come and gone, blossomed like the yellow face of the great Sun, my body a tribute to its warmth and light. My roots had grown tremendously, stretching and drinking the sweet ambrosia of the earth. My sisters had joined me in growth, and our roots were intertwined. They told me of other flowers, like us, that had come and died before us, but I was too focused on growth that I did not notice them trespassing our field. They told me to be grateful that I was not eaten or “picked” by a monster, like the one who blocked out the Sun and uprooted our mother from the soil. They told of how one, a great, ugly tree, used its clumsy branches to rip our mother out of the earth. They told stories of how it blew a great wind, and sent us all afloat on our silken wings. We landed, and we grew.
I vaguely remembered all this, but it did not concern me.
My worries were focused main
I'm already thereShe doesn't really know me well,
but I am in love with her.
I follow her,
and she is just a husk of her former self.
But I am a husk, too.
I'm quiet, and she pays me no mind.
I'm soft, and I blend into the surroundings, and she pays me no mind.
But sometimes she's afraid of me, reflected on the walls and mirrors, when it is dark outside.
I don't know why.
She clings to her sheets, and she tries to cry.
Her eyes are dry when she looks up
"how many sleeping pills does it take to make a lethal dose"
"how to tie a noose"
"how long does it take to bleed to death"
I've known her all my life:
I was there when she was born, painted across the hospital walls.
I was there when she learned to walk, and I cradled her wobbly footsteps.
I was there on her first day of school, and on her first date, and on her first kiss.
I danced at her Prom alongside her.
I stretched across the water the first time she went to the ocean.
I chased her through countless games of tag, hide and go seek, and red rover.
I wish I were the moonI will sing and serenade her
And talk to her for hours
And I will give her showers
And let the petals fall as they may.
We'll be on a rooftop together
And she'll wave to some unknown
She'll flirt with old boyfriends, grown
And devour them.
She'll chew them up and spit out their bones.
During times she should be dreaming
But sleep remains out of sight,
She turns out the light.
Sometimes I can hear her singing
Her lonely cries for the love of her life.
Oh, how I wish I were the moon!
The celestial body she howls for:
He keeps her company these lonely nights
And she loves him.
(But I love her.)
We'll be on a riverboat together
Just her and me, in the mid-day,
No night-time to get in the way.
And I can almost hear her say,
"I love only you."
Alas, fantasies remain fantasies,
And dreams remain dreams.
And no matter how oblivious she seems
Something inside me always screams,
"You will never have your love returned!"
But I know how she'd laugh
And brush the thought away
lunacyIf I remember right,
I first met you at night
on a rooftop, way back when.
And you watched me go around,
disappeared beyond the ground,
and then I left without a sound
(for I was foolish then)
And it was at night when you came for me
And I finally let you see
As I pull and push the sea.
I wax, I wane,
I dance without complain
And I thank my lucky stars
because I've never been more free
But you forced yourself to stay awake
and I told you, that's a grave mistake
but I pretty sure you didn't hear.
I'm too quiet compared to nighttime chatter
and you never really knew what was the matter
and I don't want you to climb that ladder
to try and get near.
Please don't come close to me
Be thankful you've got gravity
and that your lovely eyes can see
I regret I'm up here, barely tethered
floating around like a feather
through thick and thin and bad weather
(no one listens to what I say anyways)
You got on one knee, almost in a trance
"Mia luna," you said, "
Morning-Walker ChildrenPlease turn off your sprinklers
For the morning-walker children
Who don't like to get wet.
The mist is cold and uncomfortable
When the sun is cold
and the sky is clear.
There's a secret line we walk,
Between the living
and the sleeping
How sweet the dew-grass must taste!
Silken spiders are weaving their webs
On crystal droplets.
Such shy flowers that must bloom
At the kiss of dawn.
They flutter their eyelashes
in the cool breezes,
And will shy away
from the glare
of the wakened sun.
The morning-walker children
awaken every day without fail.
They raise their drowsy eyelids
and adjust for the bright sun
Day in, day out.
For always and eternity.
We stir the stars around
In the rising sky,
And let them fall away
Out of sight and sound.
We kiss them good-bye,
And listen to what they say.
The morning-daylight rays
That peek on our faces,
Brighten our tired eyes.
We spend these countless days
Succumbing to chases,
And when we do sleep,
All we want is
one more sunrise.
For there's a promise