Dandelion

He said -

“If you were a Dandelion

I’d blow you away.”

And he did every night. 

There were times when my heart

felt like snowflakes; fragile, delicate and falling

in love. And all it would take was your voice

loud and clear on a cold winters day

to cause that avalanche in me.

I became a thief in the night the first time I saw him

because I kept stealing glances.

I became an artist after our first argument

because I made ice-sculptures 

in his cold-shoulder. 

I became a poet the day he kissed me

because he is something worth writing about.

She whispered tattered prayers

to the winter’s wind

and hoped they’d be carried far away. 

She filled her darkness with feelings,

 feelings and ghosts of the past and present

but never a future -

she was always saying “I can’t stop

remembering the day you were going…

going…”

The day you were gone she melted.

In the dry Autumn breezes she wrote love poems

in a language she had not yet learnt

to speak.

“My heart is like a pressed flower

how beautiful

that you took the time to save me

between inked words of love

and to look at my faded petals

whenever you get lonely in the winter.”

Sometimes, I feel fine

or nothing. There was once a box

that I kept under my bed, wooden

and antique. I loved it and kept it secret

although I always felt it was too important

to be used.

One night - I started putting my dreams

into that box.

Years later - when heartbreak came to visit

he buried that box

far away

and told me to leave my bed

and go search for my dreams.