The Sun to a Flower

         I finally broke the surface so that I could see your face. My leaves lifting up to reach out to you so that I can feel your warm embrace swivel around me to lift me up even farther. While I was young your attention was all mine so that I could feed off your love, but now that my potential has reached its climax, you’ve turned to a more beautiful flower to hand your eternal flame. All I wish for is to turn my bright yellow face from you, and yet my stem still relentlessly hopes that our burning passion will return, keeping me locked onto your gaze. Every time I am about to let another petal shrivel away, you send a pity ray my way, confusing me once again about what I mean to you. I wish you’d just let me go instead of keeping me in this painful loop, but you’ve rooted me into a lonesome field so that I can watch you shine onto a frenzied garden below, lying to each one about how they are the only one you hand your heat to. Even though I know your love for me is fake, I still allow myself to fall into your games because the reality of your intentions would hurt me too much. The only one that eases my suffering is the rain, trying to make sure that my strength does not waiver, but he was too late this time, leaving me with your fire to eat away at my core. For the first time I can feel my neck become looser, allowing my head to finally rest on Nature’s floor. Even though I lay here knowing my days are numbered, I am finally happy to be free from you. To think that I used to be afraid of wilting away humors me because how could I have not been excited to be with the ground once again, the one thing that always stayed with me and the one thing that has always accepted me for me. My dying is not a sign of weakness, it’s a flash of my confidence returning since I am finally not waiting for you to push me away, I’m making that decision for you. You’ll never find another flower more beautiful than me and you’ll figure that out soon enough, once the other plants you’ve been pouring yourself into show that they are actually a weed. So as I allow myself to break apart in the wind, I think of when you’ll realize you can no longer tease me whenever you are bored and you’ll forever have to look at where I once stood, absorbing the regret of letting your sunflower go.