a sunflower writes to a rainbow//sound of a heartbreak (NaPoWriMo #26)

what does it feel like to fall for someone you know is
wrong for you? let me tell you my story of forbidden
love, as the critics so clumsily call it. clumsy because
they do not know of the hours upon hours you spend
trying to love someone you’re told you’re supposed to,
even though your heart belongs in another’s clutches.
i fell in love with a rainbow – you – an iridescent band
of colours that make up this terrible world that i terribly
long to see, without having to return to the sun’s rays that
kiss me and send me gifts of dew, but do not ever call
me back – and still manage to make the medley look so
flawless, like art no painter could deliberately strike
upon, like an emotion no writer could possibly articulate
on. i wasn’t supposed to, i didn’t mean it, just like every
other love story you know. i won’t claim it was something
different, but similarity doesn’t make it less difficult.
you needed the sun, i needed the sun. do you think our
mutual dependence on him would make him approve
of this unholy union? even as my heritage called for me
to give my all to him, drinking in his bright sunbeams
all day, but what they called beams of warm embrace,
in them i felt the scorching heat that left welts on the poor,
unprotected. i did never want to spend my life, dependent,
waiting for the whimsical sun to glow lovingly onto the
earth when happy, and fry the tiniest being that dared to
offend him when not. i did not want to spend my nights
waiting at the East to greet him with my face at dawn, did
not want to waste my youthful abundance in a forceful
romance that was not even one-sided. i did not want to end
up the nymph to Apollo. since i came into being, i was told
not to look, not to turn my head in the opposite direction.
they said dark shadows lurked behind, and that it was the
worst fate that could befall us. but you there, you thrive on
dichotomy. you come as the sun and the rains so please –
even you aren’t free from Helio’s curse – then you disappear,
always leaving much to be desired for. but that’s the thing
about the object of my affection – an object, are you even?
i’ve picked up from the hissing grapevines on the walls
across the field that you are but an optical illusion. could
you tell me that’s not true? am i, an obvious novice who’s
only seen one side of the world, unable physically to see
both sides of a story, getting myself into a dilemma? when
was the last time you were in love yourself – have you ever
let anyone touch you before? have you ever bared your
entire naked self to someone, or do you only always show
yourself in those gently curving arches? i know, know there’s
more to you than you show. a semicircle has no meaning
without its outer ring, even the moon that blooms in stages
does by erasing its other vulnerable half. and these very rays
that come in between us, they give you birth and they give
me life, i know. and i – a tall, gangly, big-headed assembly of
hundreds of tiny florets – am probably not even worthy of
your adoration – i am no competition to the stately peacock
that dances upon your arrival. my love is true, but so is my
dependence, and the sound of my heartbreak comes
in the light prattle of drizzling raindrops
that signify your homecoming.


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