But you delighted in your sunflower,
bestowed it a name, watched it grow
from seeds until you stood, proud
next to stalk taller than you,
I cheered from the sidelines,
maybe gave a like but always admired
your serpentine hair and drop-dead stare  

I watched years after we actually spoke
casually at the coffee house when I asked
about your tattoos, slashes across forearm
inspired my character to mimic
in sharpie in a scene I read aloud
to a friend the same afternoon
I saw you died