conflicted

Unrevised draft If I were a flower, would I be conflicted? The sun wouUnrevised draftld rise after the bone breaking cold of the night. At first with its gentle warmth...making love to my petal skin. Dew would dry, replaced by the dry smoothness of my skin. Until, suddenly, the sun becomes the overwhelming lover that she is and I remember the coolness of the night and the contrast of her weak luminance. And I begin to long for her presence and and eventually her touch. The moon...gentle. she's is nothing like the sun and stands quietly while I sleep. I turn my face from her gleaming eyes and she responds by turning cold. Colder so with the turning of the clock until I loose all the warmth of my blood to this overpowering queen. She takes me and freezes me in time but if I realize her fretfulness I will loose this night forever. No longer in love with her I will long for the gentle warmth of the sun.