In a field of sunflowers.

In a field of sunflowers,

I let you go.

In a field of sunflowers,

I let the hurt flow.

In a field of sunflowers,

I grieve and I grow.

In a field of sunflowers,

I begin to glow.

In a field of sunflowers,

I let you go.

–S.

Tradition.

One wrong move and it’s all tumbling down.

52 cards, face down, on the ground.

Your love has always been conditional.

I guess, that’s what we kept traditional.

It’s never been the most sturdy.

You’re always assessing me in a hurry.

I can never be anything new –

because what you thought of me,

was the only thing that could ever be true.

–S.

Stay for a little while.

For my heart, you’re a maze.

I see you, through a haze.

You burn me, like a blaze.

My head is in a fucking craze.

Starving for you, but I’m just allowed to graze.

Time removes the glaze.

Nothing ever stays.

–S.

Run.

I run.

I turn every corner.

Mix up the number of lefts,

and the number of rights.

Down the hills,

and up the stairs in flights.

I run,

but it doesn’t matter how many turns,

or how fast – even when my sides burn,

because I always run right into myself.

I change up the paths, but they’re never any help.

–S.

What do you think?

Do you think you could love me just like this?

with acne scars that are hard not to notice.

Do you think you could love me just like this?

with internal monologues that don’t lean towards bliss.

Do you think you could love me just like this?

with eyes reflecting murky brown irises.

Do you think you could love me just like this?

with big wrists.

Do you think you could love me just like this?

with a tendency to vanish.

Do you think you could love me just like this?

Oh, how I wish.

–S.

Unrequited.

Unrequited,

can we quiet,

all the voices in my head?

Unrequited,

can we quiet,

the feelings I have for you instead?

Unrequited,

can we quiet,

all the shit that we ever said?

Unrequited,

can we quiet,

the fantasies of you in my head?

Unrequited,

can we quiet,

never mind, I just want it all dead.

–S.

Bag Lady.

I drive by your old house.

I’m looking in every window.

I’m still trying to find myself, didn’t you know?

You’re moved on,

and you’re married.

I don’t love you anymore,

but it’s the feeling of being abandoned,

that I’ve still carried.

You’re hiking trails state-to-state now,

with only one backpack in tow.

I’m now a bag lady, didn’t you know?

I’m still carrying everything that you left behind.

You’re no longer on my mind,

but I still drive by your old house.

I’m looking in every window.

I’m still trying to find myself, didn’t you know?

–S.