The Sun and Her Flowers (11 page)

i do not need the kind of love

that is draining

i want someone

who energizes me

i am trying to not

make you pay for their mistakes

i am trying to teach myself

you are not responsible

for the wound

how can i punish you

for what you have not done

you wear my emotions

like a decorated army vest

you are not cold or

savage or hungry

you are medicinal

you are not them

he makes sure to look right at me

as he places his electric fingers on my skin

how does that feel
he asks

commanding my attention

responding is out of the question

i quiver with anticipation

excited and terrified for what's to come

he smiles

knows this is what satisfaction looks like

i am a switchboard

he is the circuits

my hips move with his—rhythmic

my voice isn't my own when i moan—it is music

like fingers on a violin string

he sparks enough electricity within me to power a city

when we finish i look right at him

and tell him

that was magic

when i walked into the coffee shop and saw you. my body did not react like it had the first time. i waited for my heart to abandon me. for my legs to freeze up. to fall to the ground crying at your sight. nothing happened. there was no connection or movement inside when we locked eyes. you looked like a regular guy with your regular clothes and regular coffee. nothing profound about you. i don't give myself enough credit. my body must have cleansed itself of you long ago. must have gotten tired of me behaving like i'd lost the best thing to have happened. and wrung the insecurities out while i was busy wallowing in pity. that day i had no makeup on. my hair was all over the place. i was wearing my brother's old t-shirt and pajama pants. yet i felt like a gleaming siren. a mermaid. i did a little dance in the car while driving home. even though we were both under the same roof of that coffee shop. i was still solar systems away from you.

the orange trees refused to blossom
unless we bloomed first

when we met

they wept tangerines

can't you tell
the earth has waited its whole life for this

-
celebration

why am i always running in circles

between wanting you to want me

and when you want me

deciding it is too emotionally naked

for me to live with

why do i make loving me so difficult

as if you should never have to witness

the ghosts i have tucked under my breast

i used to be more open

when it came to matters like this my love

-
if only we'd met when i was that willing

i could not contain myself any longer

i ran to the ocean

in the middle of the night
and confessed my love for you to the water

as i finished telling her

the salt in her body became sugar

(ode to sobha singh's
sohni mahiwal)

i say
maybe this is a mistake. maybe we need more than love to make this work
.

you place your lips on mine. when our faces are buzzing with the ecstasy of kissing you say
tell me that isn't right
. and as much as i'd like to think with my head. my racing heart is all that makes sense. there. right there is the answer you're looking for. in my loss of breath. my lack of words. my silence. my inability to speak means you've filled my stomach with so many butterflies that even if this is a mistake. it could only be right to be this wrong with you.

a

man

who cries

-
a gift

if i'm going to share my life with a partner

it would be foolish not to ask myself

twenty years from now

is this person going to be

someone i still laugh with

or am i just distracted by their charm

do i see us evolving into

new people by the decade

or does the growing ever come to a pause

i don't want to be distracted

by the looks or the money

i want to know if they pull

the best or the worst out of me

deep at the core are our values the same

in thirty years will we still

jump into bed like we're twenty

can i picture us in old age

conquering the world

like we've got young blood

running in our veins

-
checklist

what is it with you and sunflowers
he asks

i point to the field of yellow outside

sunflowers worship the sun
i tell him

only when it arrives do they rise

when the sun leaves

they bow their heads in mourning

that is what the sun does to those flowers

it's what you do to me

-
the sun and her flowers

sometimes

i stop myself from

saying the words out loud

as if leaving my mouth too often

might wear them down

-
i love you

the most important conversations

we'll have are with our fingers

when yours nervously graze mine

for the first time during dinner

they'll tighten with fear

when you ask to see me again next week

but as soon as i say yes

they'll stretch out in ease

when they grasp one another

while we're beneath the sheets

the two of us will pretend

we're not weak in the knees

when i get angry

they'll pulse with bitter cries

but when they tremble for forgiveness

you'll see what apologies look like

and when one of us is dying

on a hospital bed at eighty-five

your fingers will grip mine

to say things words can't describe

-
fingers