my mind has always been

a lion mane my mind has

always been a labyrinth my

mind has always been my own

I don't think sunflowers

had any intention of

brightening the night

they were just trying

to mimic the sun

I never meant to

reach for the gun

I was just wishing

this day was done

his lips made mine

melt yours have made hers

crumble I can make you

stumble I will watch you

crumple your kissing days are

done for

devastated by desire

destined to deceive

droning on and down

virginity was never vital

value was never lost

cordial congratulations

cool corruption

killer calves

creeping coincidences

I've roared before

but never so loud

I never meant to

make a sound

I am your sunflower

Your hope

Your dream

But when you do that stupid smile

It makes me want to fucking scream

Deception of perfection

Thats what I'm scared of.

I'm scared of too many touches

And not enough talking

Im scared of virginity

Being wasted on this low life

Full strife

He ran after me with a knife

And I woke up in a cold sweat

Going over everything I regret

The whispering

The trust

How I spilled my insides

And they just piled up.

And this crumpled clothing you're so used to seeing me in.

(That you'd want to see me out of)

But wheres the innocence in that?

At least give me some time to react. Before you say

"What's the next thing on our list?"

I'll tell you number one, forgetting what virginity is.

She was like a sunflower

Which grew too fast

Laying crumpled on the ground

In a pool of blood and tears

Deceived by sweet words

And lusted lips

Sunflower eyes

that fall in on themselves,

not quite wilting,

but crumpled

by the wait of knowledge.

Far from the world being foreign

to her, far from a virgin

of this earth.

They congratulate her

for her optimism,

for her outlook on life,

but she's anything but naïve.

She's no longer some child

you can deceive.

She's stronger than ever,

a warrior

with light in her eyes

and time on her shoulders.

Chisel out the word

"virgin"

from where it's carved

against your crumpled mind.

They only value your purity

when it is convenient,

when you are at dinner

with their parents

in a white eyelet

dress,

but they want it strewn across

their bedroom floors

later that night.

Take that sunflower out

from behind your ear,

and slide the stem between

your breasts;

their hands can never

take it from you.

Congratulate your

body, and do not be deceived.

You are not

"losing"

anything.

No one's penis is important

enough

to change your identity.

You hadn't even seen the truck coming.

Of course, unpaved roads + drunk drivers + dense grey fog + your dark grey clothing = inevitable disaster. You only remember the brief feel of an utterly agonizing pain as the truck crumpled your legs. "Congratulations! You're going to die a virgin!" was your last thought, giddy with pain and shock, before falling into a thick unconsciousness

But you're alive.

When you wake, your brother presses a bright sunflower - your favorite - into your thin hands and tells you it's been eight months. Eight months. Eight months, and you're left paralyzed from the waist down. But you give everyone deceptively-happy smiles and statements, even when you're told you'll never play soccer again. Never swim again, never go hiking with your pa, never waltz with your Siamese or jog in the mornings or pace with boredom. You have no right to complain.

You're alive.

And you tell yourself you're grateful for it.

The petals of a sunflower

remain untouched.

Just as I, the virgin daughter

of my parents.

Yet, I am crumpled, deceived

by the wickedness of the world.

I sit in the office.

Awaiting the news,

from my doctor.

"Congratulations, dear."

He smiles brightly.

I am a sunflower no more.