yourpalmal

for the wildflowers:

i. because they named you untamable
and asked you to bloom pretty
and painted you in wheat fields
looking at home in the wind
but the world doesn’t always see you for who you are
and the world never saw you
like i did on a tuesday morning
rising from the cracks in the sidewalk
blossoming towards the wrong face of the earth
the only thing unhomely in this burnt down city
that has never known roots like a forest does
and i could’ve plucked you
but somehow i knew you won’t like
the inside of my lover’s hands as much as i do
so i left you like i found you
and hummed a prayer to the rising sun
that the birds sing you hymns that might
take you far away from your
fallen dreams of flight.

ii. because i
saw you, i see you, and i know
the world doesn’t always see you
for how you want to be.

iii. you pull at your sweater
tugging it just where your
palms end, and start the cycle of
asking the universe for redemption but that
is for another night, so now the moon
tells you to stop, to pause, to wait
but patience only favors the kind
and gravity has never been kind to you
so you unravel all that you have
woven to protect yourself from
this burning heart, a gift that the stars
forgot to take back
you keep curling and uncurling your fists
as the knots come tangled
in your fingers 
your wrists stained from
where you hid, where you clothed
your grief. grieve. grieved. grieving such that
sometimes your life feels like
a graveyard and you wonder if you
are death.

iv. i found you
lost to the winter chill
like a wildflower on the edges
of a blurry tuesday morning.


- vans.