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I will tell you,

It’s too cold for you here;

And you will breathe warmth into my frozen hands,

And say you’ve never quite been a fan of the sun.

I will tell you,

Nothing grows here;

And you will plant sunflower seeds in the cracks of my heart,

And say you’ve never forgotten to water something that you are in love with.

I will tell you,

I cannot love anymore;

And you will help me unpack the baggage I’ve been carrying for miles,

And say you’ve never felt more at home than in my heart.

I will tell you,

My hands are no longer ice,

Sunflowers are my favorite flower,

I can stand up straight now,

And I am in love with you;

And you will run your fingers down my spine made of charcoal,

And say you’ve never been careful about lighting your cigarette;

But if smoking will set fire to my brittle bones,

You will say you forgot how to inhale the chemicals tucked behind your ear.