Soup Can of Sunflowers

And even though we ain’t got money,
I’m so in love with you, honey,
And everything will bring a chain of love

When I see pictures of her
back to the world
freckled eye
I can smell her on my clothes
for the rest of the day

I can’t picture making scrambled eggs
for anyone else
tablecloth drying at its own pace
paint smears on everyone’s cheeks
every seam
every drawer
every chest
bursting with more than it was made to hold

She is the closest thing
to a soup can of sunflowers
that I’ve ever slept next to

What’s so wrong
about loving in the past tense?
What’s so wrong
about never writing this down
and putting it in her mail box?
What’s so wrong
about using your hands
for reasons other than being good at it?

And in the morning, when I rise,
You bring a tear of joy to my eyes
And tell me everything is gonna be alright

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