🚀 go-pugleaf

Skirt of Printed Sunflowers

Girl of these woods and chemicals
we labor for the black pigs of my poetry
for the bone gods of the sea.
For the secret rose you keep for me
under the skirts of printed sunflowers.

There is a hollering and someone has a
dog that barks
your eyes have that recently crying look
and your hair seems as soft
and your smell as sweet
as before.
As that last time you came to my door
in a skirt of printed pastel sunflowers.

But it has been seen that you look
straight through
I fear that you are already gone.
That night you tried to die in my arms
is something that I will not forget
or make sense of
you and your skirt of bright printed sunflowers.

Methinks that you no longer see nothing
and God knows what kind
of love is this
you told me that you never stopped loving me.
But you could never return to me
in your skirt of printed sunflowers.

-Will Dockery

C & C welcome & appreciated.