You call me sunshine. Thoughts in my mind are trespassing on my peace. My home. Breaking through my window of clarity. Staring at me through shattered glass. And I know I’m getting messy again when I can’t say your name without choking on the syllables. You watch me tear through this home I built. I shatter the lamps and rip down the wallpaper. I shed tears of gasoline. I put my fists through floorboards and throw the fine China against the walls until it’s nothing but dust. I hold a single match and threaten the world to trespass again. I dare it to take more. Suddenly, with poise, you raise palms that pigments of light dare to touch. You sweep up the dust and patch up the walls with pictures of flowers. You get on your hands and knees to soak up the gasoline. You cover the floorboards with rugs. You take the match from me and I watch as it turns into a dandelion. You say, “even though it may be a weed, it’s still a flower- It still needs sunshine to grow.” You call me sunshine. -AMT