Like a vine of ivy, she is growing towards the sunlight.
Growing towards dreams of happiness and ‘maybe somedays,’
Reaching higher and higher until her sweet leaves brush a new altitude.
Some may say her head is stuck in the clouds,
But she quite enjoys it up here.
No one to distract her from her thoughts, from her healing, from her need for silence.
Like a rose, she has developed an outward defense.
She’s scared of being hurt again,
She’s terrified you’ll be the one to do it.
She’s had her walls torn down too many times by you,
She’s not naive enough to let it happen again,
But even as she spits the words out, not even she believes them.
Like a hydrangea, she finds comfort in knowing that even after you left her alone,
She is never lonely.
She stems off of the same tree as the others.
She finds comfort in knowing she is worth something,
Enough for the other budding plants to keep her around.
She feels valued.
Like a sunflower, she finds strength in numbers.
The rows upon rows of similar stems standing behind her—
With happiness-colored petals.
And while yellow always made her think of you,
She’s slowly reclaiming the color in the form of late-night headlights
And the yellow flash of her camera.
Like a wildflower, she is free:
Free from what keeps her up at night, free from the tears that chase her, free from you.
She now breaths easily.
Her responsibilities don’t plague her,
She embraces herself,
Embraces the mess you have caused and loves herself for picking up shattered pieces.