Dandelions are perceived as weeds. 

She wonders, why are they unwanted? 

Because they appear wherever he goes? Because they are so common? Is it only because he wants to see the rarer beauties? That he forgets how dear dandelions are? 

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She cradles the dandelion in her palms. 

She knows they don’t need comfort. Perhaps, she is comforting herself. She’s seen them get crushed under the rubber of a tire. 

She’s seen them get picked and discarded. 

She’s seen them get run under a mower. 

But they still stand. They grow again, as a big ‘fuck you’ to the world. 

It’s as if they know they are unwanted. It’s as if they know they are overlooked. But they still grow again. It’s as if it’s out of spite. 

They don’t care if they are overlooked. They don’t care if they are unwanted. They grow for themselves. They grow out of spite. 

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No matter the amount of times they get taken from their homes, 

No matter the amount of times they get run over. 

No matter the amount of times they get picked. 

They still grow. 

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Resilience, Courage, Strength. 

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He knows naught of the wishes made with their seeds. 

He knows naught of the kisses she gives to their petals. 

For someone who does not recognize her worth, 

In the vast sea of dandelions, 

She holds her head high. 

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For she is a dandelion, 

Wanted not by him, 

But wanted by herself.

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Claudia Isabella is an 18 year old Creative Writing student who writes gothic prose and poetry; she strives to create more sapphic content in dream-like (or more accurately, eerie) situations and find the pleasure in the little things in life. She loves the language of flowers, art of guitar dissonance, and the kisses of self. Being hard of hearing, she has found comfort in ink printed of the bark of trees that have once lived. You can find her on twitter and instagram @neptunitii.