she dreams
of a love
brighter than sunflowers

to go so unnoticed
by they
who forever sway at attention
in pursuit of light

that she may remain
completely present to herself
even within the all consuming
swirling blue dim of midnight

long past the moment
when the weeds growing
through the cracks in the bed
will have repurposed the dreamer
into something nameless

something to be stumbled upon
by fated chance
deep within the unspoken cecity
of two souls sleeping

with goosebumps screaming:

“Welcome Home.”

to a blind heart’s fingertips
calloused still from stitching dandelions back together
for the sole purpose of them being blown apart again

something so brazenly fickle
and violently intimate
that through her harassed heart alone
tenderness may yet persist
long after the bird’s ode to dawn
slips into a song of war
and the men of flame
forget their purpose
was to warm a woman
and not to burn each other

she dares to dream
of a love
brighter than sunflowers

to be lived
pursued by light
forever swaying
at attention of itself
to the music of her heart.