Story cover for Love, Sunflower by YinfeiSavitch
Love, Sunflower
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    Reads 111
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    Votes 6
  • WpPart
    Parts 8
  • WpHistory
    Time <5 mins
  • WpView
    Reads 111
  • WpVote
    Votes 6
  • WpPart
    Parts 8
  • WpHistory
    Time <5 mins
Ongoing, First published Jun 12, 2020
Mature
With all the chaos around, words still continue to flow in my mind. The safe haven I once had when I was little experienced the toughest of storms its roof and walls withstood. With all the cracks on the hollow wall, shattered fragile windows, and dented alloy roof, I always looked forward to when the first streak of sunlight would splash and bathe my skin.

The thought that a sliver of hope a streak of light have can somehow soothe the storm I have within is enough for me to continue; sufficient for me to stand on my roots and sway with the winds, to not move against but with it.

These poems are records of the storms I had withstood, also cointaining the bright sunny days and drizzles I danced in, swayed. Oh, how equally relieving and worrying it is for me that there would be so much more the universe have in store for a sunflower like me.

I hope I'll neither wither from the heat nor drown from the flood.
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𝕋𝕙𝕖 π•‘π• π•–π•žπ•€ 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕣𝕒𝕨, π•™π• π•Ÿπ•–π•€π•₯, π•’π•Ÿπ•• π•¦π•Ÿπ•’π•‘π• π•π• π•˜π•–π•₯π•šπ•”, 𝕔𝕒𝕑π•₯π•¦π•£π•šπ•Ÿπ•˜ π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•–π•€π•€π•–π•Ÿπ•”π•– 𝕠𝕗 𝕨𝕙𝕒π•₯ π•šπ•₯ 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕀 π•π•šπ•œπ•– π•₯𝕠 π•π•šπ•§π•– π•¨π•šπ•₯𝕙 π••π•–π•‘π•£π•–π•€π•€π•šπ• π•Ÿ. π•₯𝕙𝕖 π••π•’π•£π•œπ•Ÿπ•–π•€π•€ 𝕠𝕗 π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•žπ•šπ•Ÿπ••,π•€π•’π••π•Ÿπ•–π•€π•€ π•’π•Ÿπ•• π•₯𝕙𝕖 𝕀π•₯π•£π•¦π•˜π•˜π•π•– π•₯𝕠 π•—π•šπ•Ÿπ•• 𝕙𝕠𝕑𝕖 π•šπ•Ÿ π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•žπ•šπ••π•€π•₯ 𝕠𝕗 π••π•–π•€π•‘π•’π•šπ•£. π•‹π•™π•£π• π•¦π•˜π•™ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕀 π•ͺ𝕠𝕦 π•¨π•šπ•π• 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝 π•₯𝕙𝕖 π•¨π•–π•šπ•˜π•™π•₯ 𝕠𝕗 π••π•–π•‘π•£π•–π•€π•€π•šπ• π•Ÿ, 𝕒𝕀 π•šπ•₯ π•₯π•’π•œπ•–π•€ 𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕕 π•’π•Ÿπ•• 𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕦𝕀𝕖𝕀 π•₯𝕠 𝕝𝕖π•₯ π•˜π• . 𝔹𝕦π•₯ π•–π•§π•–π•Ÿ π•’π•žπ•šπ••π•€π•₯ π•₯𝕙𝕖 π••π•’π•£π•œπ•Ÿπ•–π•€π•€, π•₯𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 π•žπ• π•žπ•–π•Ÿπ•₯𝕀 𝕠𝕗 𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕦π•₯π•ͺ π•’π•Ÿπ•• π•π•šπ•˜π•™π•₯ π•‹π•™π•šπ•€ π•šπ•€ 𝕒 π•“π• π• π•œ π•₯𝕙𝕒π•₯ π•¨π•šπ•π• π•£π•–π•€π• π•Ÿπ•’π•₯𝕖 π•¨π•šπ•₯𝕙 π•’π•Ÿπ•ͺπ• π•Ÿπ•– 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕙𝕒𝕀 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕀π•₯π•£π•¦π•˜π•˜π•π•–π•• π•¨π•šπ•₯𝕙 π••π•–π•‘π•£π•–π•€π•€π•šπ• π•Ÿ. 𝕀π•₯ π•šπ•€ 𝕒 π•£π•–π•žπ•šπ•Ÿπ••π•–π•£ π•₯𝕙𝕒π•₯ 𝕨𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 π•Ÿπ• π•₯ π•’π•π• π•Ÿπ•– π•šπ•Ÿ 𝕠𝕦𝕣 π•‘π•’π•šπ•Ÿ π•’π•Ÿπ•• π•₯𝕙𝕒π•₯ π•₯𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 π•šπ•€ 𝕒𝕝𝕨𝕒π•ͺ𝕀 𝕙𝕠𝕑𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣 π•₯π• π•žπ• π•£π•£π• π•¨.
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"Is happiness really a myth". A collection of the most cherished pieces of my soul: my poems. The things I wrote when I loved, when I hated, when I raged, when I dared and when from reality, I escaped. My poems are a way for me to get away from the world, my escapism. #3 for poetry{29 may 22} #1 for poem{11-16 june 22} #1 for poetry {2 july 22} #15 for poem {3-5 july 22} #3 for sad poetry {2 oct 22} #1 for sadwords {19 oct 22} #2 for sadwords {5 nov 22} #1 for sadwords {20 nov 22}