. It has been your favorite ever since you realized sunflowers aren't suited to the climate in your city. A utopian fantasy, a sunflower field. A subtle reality, the gentle hibiscus in your palm. //full poem in caption// You can't always make out the words the guitar strumming, drum beating chaos surrounds, but you may catch scraps of words. Broken sentences, a few jagged words. A few unknown chords, a few known pauses. And softly banging your head, you stare at your reflection in the mirror. Your tresses, your smile. But no, not your stare. His stare, almost piercing your stare. Almost.
