I see you in the daffodils.
Your neck below their heads
Your legs outstretched on green
The blanket on your bladed bed

I’m reminded there are worse things
To see you in at times
I’ve woken, shaking madly
Catching your face next to mine

This reminds me I am better
To see you here, old friend
To forget the burn of our last words
And fall in love again.

Yellow makes me well now
And it looks good on you too
One day you’ll burst up in the sky
Amber hair on azure blue

And all the world will see you
Though they may not know your face
But I will know you’re up there
And we’ll meet again one day.

The Prettiest Plot in the Graveyard

[I wrote this as a song, but you can read it as a poem too if you’d like]


Maybe a daffodil will grow from the cracks of my skin
Blooming just adjacent to my lips
I hope the buds stay open longer than my eyes
I hope that moss will cover my closed lids.

Bury me between two sturdy tree trunks
A willow or an oak with bluebells there
Crawling up the bark to reach the heavens
In an intimate, a longing kind of prayer

Gardeners will guard my grave like angels
I’ll take dirt stained jackets over wings any day
The clean, bright world above has always scared me
But I know I have to go I cannot stay.

There are things I cannot tell you so let the questions die with me
Don’t wonder why I’m going all too much
I’ve told the answers only to the September wind
Don’t listen to its whistles, feel its touch

Plant roses round my gravestone til you can’t see it anymore
I want to commemorate the living more than me
No one’s ever happy thinking about dead girls
So please hide it – I don’t want the world to see

I want their eyes on nature and on beauty
On the curve of crimson petals and daisy-grass
I may be gone but keep my inch of the world pretty
And through seasons and through years I will last.