wildflower

there are boys

who want to

hold your hand

in the street

buy you flowers

probably something boring

like roses

and kiss you goodnight.

there are boys

who want to

take you home

to their mothers

and talk about

the children

you will never have.

but i want the boys

whose souls are

all the colors of the rainbow

whose mothers pray

for their fragile lives

because drugs never

promised anyone

tomorrow.

i want the boys

who sit with me

under the night sky

and count the stars

and we both say

what’s the point

but we hold each other anyway

for a heartbeat or a night

because i never know

when

or if

they are coming back.

i will never get flowers

because i hate them.

i like the wildflowers.