𝑳𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝑨𝒕 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒐𝒏

𝑷𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒆𝒔

Oh Darling,

Your words are sound like jazz.

They wrap around my head, replaying until my vision is clear. And when it's cleared tears of joy prick in my eyes.

I'll scatter hearts around you. I'll catch stars in Mason jars leave by your bedside.

It doesn't have to scare you or put you in a panic, and I know that now.

Poppies start at my stomach and errupt from my chest. But I know you find it as a natural beauty. That's what keeps them thriving.