~Sappy Daze~ Day 9

I Bet Your Parents Made Love in a Bed 

of bright marigolds and cosmos. 
That would explain your innate 
stubbornness, like when you sprouted 
in May, too eager 

to grant your mother
the sweet poison of a lily 
of the valley, 
which is motherhood.

Although it’s not as beautiful as 
the red tulip she raised, I hope 
she likes the hydrangeas I gave. 

I’ve been wanting to gift more.

While their brilliant red still 
doesn’t compare to the adorable 
pink blooming on you, 

Look, the carnations we planted 
have beautifully bloomed. I’m 
determined to grow peonies with 
you, too. I’ve already decided that 

when I lie in my deathbed, nobody shall 
give me white lilies. Instead, they’ll 
give me poppies, for the wound you left 
when you left me: 

Its medicine will grant me peace in death, 
just like the peace your lavender gave me.

- Sappy

~Sappy Daze~ Day 6

On Reserve

I’m not very well-read. Especially 
when it comes to you. You’re a 
closed book, whereas I belong in 
the children’s section. Thankfully, 
you’re a bookworm. You didn’t 
judge me by my cover when I 
checked out at the library, unable 
to take my eyes off the page and
too engrossed in the story of 
you and me that I plotted out. 
I may be illiterate, but in my books, 
I’m a pretty good author, though
I wasn’t always good with words. 
Talking to the text had me on the 
edge of my seat. I wanted to book it: 
the ticket to the next chapter in our 
lives, until the falling action and 
resolution scared me. To drown out 
the words, you gifted me a photo 
album. The best possible genre for 
our favorite memories: dancing in 
the library at 2 in the morning, 
browsing books at the bookstore we 
couldn’t afford, fighting our hopeless 
finals with senseless doodles. It’s due 
soon: the audiobook I’ll give you. I 
wrote out and narrated our future life 
possibilities, like the adventurous 
romantic fantasy I planned right 
from the start at the library.

- Sappy

Evolving Emotions: Love- Short Story

Painted with Lavender


You lay beside me beneath sheets painted with lavender. My chest quivers at your touch, delicate fingers navigating the curves and pitfalls felt by no one else. The sides of your mouth lift in that way that they do to make my body melt into yours. I’m in awe of you, of this moment. An array of purples and blues outline your silhouette. Flecks of stars glimmer against your skin. You graze my hands, held close to my chest. They intertwine, so close to the beating of my heart. I shudder, knowing you bear witness to all of me. 


We fit perfectly, shaped by cosmic intention. A finger reaches my cheek, gliding along my skin which is now yours. You were made for me, and I pray I was made for you. The warmth under the covers sends me fluttering. I only wish that you’ll stay, that this moment could endure forever. That part of me aches. It remembers those lonely nights under twilight. No stars atop skin or sunsets to fall into. The wind carried whispers, but they weren’t yours. Before I reached your eyes and felt your lips, I would imagine you lying here—your skin on mine. Our breath intermingled like it had always been that way. That aching was black and cold and clutched at my throat. It hurt to be. I longed for you, and I pray you did too.


I frolic in the mundane

late-night grocery hunts for instant mashed potatoes

movie nights inside because it’s dreary outside

walks in the park where we see the trees we’ve seen one hundred times over

looking up at the stars, I still don’t know the name of

you outstretch to point, but I just look at you 

in the firelight


It’s amazing how time slips away, however dreadful it feels in the pit of my stomach. I’ve watched your smile crease and your eyes grow wings. They are lighter than they once were, not dull but dimming. But when I look closer, there’s something unchanged. You are still you and I am still me. You still laugh at my jokes. (Badly executed with the best intentions.) My ears still perk at the melody you dance to in the kitchen. The stars that glittered still shine the same way. You are mine, and I am yours, and I will cherish you like I do every day.


When the time comes, I won’t say goodbye. It would hurt too much. To admit that you’re gone is to cease any possibility, any flicker in my heart, that there is more to be had. There are so many words unspoken, so many songs unsung, so many dances not done,

so many late nights,

early mornings 

without you.


This bed is too empty, and the hole you left grows larger, a force upon sore ribs. I breathe in, but you aren’t in my lungs. Where has the lavender gone? 

Evolving Emotions: Love- Poetry

Last Goodbye

She was evening nights sprinkled with fireflies. She was bouquets of every shade. She was long farewells, dandelion wishes, and key lime pie. Her heart beating atop my chest settled my breath into a steady patter every Sunday morning when the birds were chirping and her hands would hold mine, delicate and powerful, carrying me into the day with jittery excitement and beaming optimism and just when the world felt like it would fall into pieces I watched her wave with a smile plastered on her beautiful face knowing I was hers and she was mine from now until the end. She was warm embraces beneath a woven blanked. She was long road trips below a bright sun. She was mine and I was hers until our last goodbye.