Love poem: Fell back in love with myself
I am, a dandelion that’s losing its ligules
A dandelion on the street
Stepped on, on repeat – bracing the wind, but falling apart
Missing my roots
Crying because I won’t be in a vehicle with my father ever again
But the koala-grey sidewalk embraces me like its only friend
Gasping, breaking, compact but fragile – for eternity
Not asking anyone to save me
Because rap songs taught me that’s commonly dismissed
Neglected and disposed of
(Why am I so delicate?)
I breathe it and I love it, but God please help me, I’m exasperated
I wear my orthodox cross like it’s the most expensive diamond given to a queen
Nobody ever suspects a thing
Love poem: Fell back in love with myself (continued)
A guy once bought me, the most beautiful fiddle leaf fig tree
That I picked out, of course
Girl knows her houseplants
My bedroom lacked the sunshine to keep my baby alive
I wept on the floor staring at its fallen brown pieces
Feeling like I was one of them
Breaking for eternity
Shrivelling up and no longer green, but serene
I swallow the ground whole with my desire to love more than I ever have before
Time, and time, again.
You know, a girl, who truly loves flowers
Never “gets used” to receiving them
Each time is special, savoured, like those commercials with women and chocolate
I stop walking every few feet to capture a flower
One day, a boy said to me, “do you have to stop every time”
That was the end of him and I
Of course, I do
That’s what happens when you’re in love with white, pink, red, yellow, and blue
The colours dash through your mind when you’re not scrolling on your phone
Remembering the hydrangeas from Venice Beach
The sunset blooms at the rose garden at the museum where you spent your birthday in your own solid company
Breaking in composite structures
Swallowing the rose petals on the ground
Love poem: Fell back in love with myself (continued)
The dandelions on the street
Say something on repeat
They love me, they live through me
They engulf quite the vast part of me
And every piece of their frail self that flies away with the breeze
Becomes deeply embedded within me
And I love it, like cotton
I roll it, like marbles
If I’m ever, forgotten
I hope botany never is
Love poem: Fell back in love with myself (continued)
I know a girl
That will never “get used” to flowers
So endlessly abundant but single-handedly make this life worth it
They love me, they love me
They live right through me
I walk on the concrete
Looking for myself
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