From time to time,
I send flowers,
To the unassuming.
When doing this,
One is walking a fine-line.
Straddling the good deed of random kindness,
And the peculiar stalking quality of flowers without a name.
Moments ago,
On the back patio,
As the moon cast down on the sea.
As the roaring calmness seemed to penetrate through my thoughts;
I stumbled upon a notion.
One of exceptional uneasiness.
I had caused more harm than
good…
I had sent a nameless invitation,
A symbolic push into the abyss.
I never said a word until now.
She cut herself for the first
time as a confused teenager.
The blood flowed down her arm,
And crafted a glorious pulse between her legs.
She would look in the mirror.
The figure scared her,
So stark and innocent,
Like a statue-
Hard and cold.
How tan the skin had once
been.
How yesterday the world seemed so dark,
Yet, today the sun made her eyes hurt.
I sent her a bouquet of wildflowers,
Her favorite-
With yellow billowing sunflowers rising through the maze of shades.
It was our first Christmas
in college,
When I saw her cut.
A deep opening above her breast,
It took months to close.
And took my breath away.
I never said a word until
now.
We hadn't spoken since she
was admitted.
We met for lunch.
She picked the same place as usual,
I met her around one.
The sky was clear.
The deflowered spring,
Had everyone hustling up and down,
The golden paved street of Back Bay.
She wore sunglasses and said
she needed to get away.
We flew…
She grabbed my hand during takeoff,
Told me we were never going home,
And slept on my shoulder as we landed.
We were on the beach by morning.
She took her sunglasses off
and sat up.
Her faint green serong whipped in the wind.
Her hair blew in and out of her eyes.
She smiled.
I couldn't figure it out and then I saw it.
A young couple splashed together
in the sea.
The man held her,
And the waves pounded into them.
She sat on my lap,
Her skin warming my dripping body.
I put my arms around her and she looked at the intertwined bodies
of lovers floating in the madness of the ocean.
Something felt complete,
As if the world could freeze,
That the air could get sucked away,
And still we would be free.
The sunflower lasted for
weeks.
She cut too deep,
Aroused by the flowers,
And the mystery.
They lasted long after she
wilted,
And now my sunflower is dead.
I never said a word until
now.
