you said my head is
a jungle of vines and twigs
without a trail to follow,
and you get lost
each time you walk in.
I'm sorry,
my mysteries aren't giveaways
for tourists.
ㅡit takes time to read me
YOU ARE READING
Sunflower Stories
PoetryI bend whenever skies turn black. I lose some petals when it's dark. Even so, I'd rise again when morning comes, and darkness ends. ㅡ Sunflower
