The Sunflower & The Earth

SUN FLOWERS; She weaves them through her hair, her fingers threading through the knotted tresses, agitated from sleepless nights. They are soft and sun-warm, stark yellow against her brown curls. The pads of her fingers brush against the silky petals, and she smiles wistfully, caressing them almost lovingly. They remind her of his silky curls

She likes sunflowers – yellow like the stars, black like the night, green like the Tennessee fields, and a little bit of something she can't quite place. They emanate summer and heat and happiness, and beginning, and in a way, ending. They shoot from the ground in life-green stalks, slowly spread and open their arms to the sun. Then they age. They wilt in the end of August heat, then fall into the earth again in a cloud of petals and dust.

In a way, she's like the sun flowers. She shoots up from the dark every now and again with a new, vibrant shade and a new flawless melody. She lifts her head to the lights and opens her ears to the warm sound all around her. She waits through the heat of success, before it all gets just too warm, and she wilts back under the stage in a flurry of insults and silence.

EARTH; He lays on the Earth, feeling the moist dirt press itself into his dress shirt, starched to perfection – like him. It is cool and welcoming, for it is so warm where he is. The moist, cool brown seeps into his pristine blue, pressed shirt, soft and smooth, and he smiles to himself, remembering the summer days he's left behind.

He likes the Earth – hot like the sun, cool like the moon, smooth like her lips, and a little bit of something he knows he'll never be able to label. It holds his memories, holds sensation, holds tears that have splashed from his eyes to the dirt, seeping into the dust. The Earth regenerates itself, renew itself, kind of like love, he thinks. The Earth is always there, always consistent, and yet terribly volatile in will; as he is.

In more than a way, he is like the Earth; confident and constant, and still inexplicably insecure, roiling and tremulous inside, and sometimes on the outside, but generally emitting a sweet, sweet sensation. He sinks into himself, as the rain and sun sink into the Earth, and he feels her light rain down upon him in silky petals.

IT'S FITTING, you see, that she is like the sun flower, and he is like the earth. At the root of it all, he gives her strength, and she gives him light – a fair trade, they think. They both renew, re-grow, feel anew. They both bleed into the night, and bleed into the soul. They are both sun-warm and rain-wet. She is silky, he can be rough. She is open, he catches her closed tears. She is naïve, he is wise.

She is the SUN FLOWER, & he is the EARTH.

it's not much, but i wanted to give you guys something. i'm sorry it's been so long.