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…
The day you were gone she melted.
In the dry Autumn breezes she wrote love poems
in a language she had not yet learnt
“My heart is like a pressed flower
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
and told me to leave my bed
and go search for my dreams.