She is peaceful
She is golden honey yellow
She gives but doesn’t know how to receive
She’ll rub your back but pull away even if you gently reach for her hand
She is the sunflower, who blooms from the warmth of the sun’s touch
A touch that comes from a million miles away
She can accept this love
She is detached and therefore safe, or so she thinks
For even the sun’s rays eventually become like fire
Golden honey turns to brown
She is dirt
She turns the tears from her eyes into fertilizer
She’ll rise again as the sun moves further away.
