In Buttercups, Ava Valianti presents a world of heartbreak and ensnaring love, of intertwined vines. This is a stinging but delicate song, unexpectedly, discussing, for instance, how a youth can be encumbered by hope and heartbreak. Ava speaks of warmth wherein love is, something that is bittersweet but something that stings, as well. It is something beyond a love affair of a lost individual; a struggle of sustaining the delicate nature of love even when one already goes.

With her initial declarations, Ava creates tiny comforts of-home that are painfully precise. Cinnamon, lighting of the kitchen, the piano—these are all experiences that are fragments of a memory she doesn’t wish to eradicate. These are her tiny anchors that she holds onto of this passion of hers through her memory, even as she appears to be forgetting. Ava, through these tiny details, brings us closer to her universe, so that we are seated, even, in that kitchen of hers, watching everything slowly deteriorate before our eyes.

All the way through the song, Ava uses the term “buttercup baby” ritually. It starts being reassuring but becomes heavier, like she reassures herself that the love she is singing of is still real. Buttercup flowers themselves are delicate, crushable flowers, perfectly consistent with a breakable kind of love Ava is singing of. Such usage reflects that she considers love fragile but tender.

It spans from gentle memory to searing pain without being parsimonious. Ava journal entries looking for clues for this person all around—the yellow chin, crooked teeth baring a smile. These tiny commissions are proofs of her not being able to relinquish hope even knowing that they may be for nothing. It is as if she clings to everything which can summon back this person to her, not just for love but because she could not know herself without.

One of the most powerful parts of the song is where Ava speaks of being screwed up and not being able to trust anymore. It stings, but it doesn’t leave a bitter taste—it stings, she’s so worn out. It can be observed that she speaks of love flowing through her like a killing disease she can’t shake, which is a description of the manner wherein love can be a part of one’s misery just like a part of one’s euphoria. Even despite her anger, there can be so much longing. It is of specific interest that she starts with “how dare you cry for us,” which suggests that even despite everything, she can see the other person miserable.

Even amid that heartbreak, Ava leaves a niche for hope. Ava goes on to plant petunias in the garden, whereas the rest of us had lost hope. It is a tiny deed, but a giant of faith that love can still bloom even if all seems lost. It is a subtle but effective scene of a garden, being a classic instance of Ava’s decision of giving up to heartbreak but not being consumed by heartbreak.

It never quite presents a linear beginning, middle, and end, but rather flashes of memory, of emotion. Ava fluctuates back and forth from tender moments, to painful confessions, to stunning moments of hope. That is effective because heartbreak never quite goes chronologically. In doing so, Ava reflects the way that someone on your mind can fluctuate from warmth to pain back almost right away.

Another aspect that I notice is that Ava’s lyrics are so unpretentious. What I mean is that she doesn’t employ long, effusive words that say a lot of deep, philosophical things. What she does is, she tells us with ordinary words and images that everyone can understand, so that the song can be a genuinely, emotional piece. Such unpretentiousness renders everything more explicit because, well, it doesn’t hide behind big, articulate words. It seems that she speaks from her heart to that person she misses, without being too poetic for others.

In Buttercups, Ava shows that sugary, gentle love can leave bruises. Even when she speaks of not being able to trust or not being complete, there isn’t really so much of a rejection of love, of everything. She is still grasping for the piece she lost, still believing that this person can be re-found. This makes the song not quite so much of a bitter farewell but more of a subtle reassurance that she will not cease to care, even even though she got hurt.

Those are from the song lyrics, Buttercups, that are the ultimate metaphor for that fleeting hope. Buttercups are tiny, sponse, but they don’t endure. In choosing that image, Ava proves that she gets that love can be bottomless, but fleeting, at the same time. It’s that realization that provides that piece of adulthood to that song, even for a teen.

Also, Ava demonstrates that heartbreak can breed second-guessing. Hooks of beginning a searching expedition or loitering outside a lobby reveal her uncertainty: must she fight for this love or leave it? This uncertain emotion makes her relatable to all that have attempted to preserve something that goes. She doesn’t deny that she is lost; she announces that publicly, which provides authenticity of the song more than heartbreak.

Finally, why Buttercups becomes so anguished is that Ava never imposes some neat resolution of the agony she’s going through. She simply leaves it there, together with recollections of warmth, together with glimpses of still hope. She commemorates love so that it can destroy, so that it can repair, perhaps simultaneously. In noveling so openly of longings, of betrayings, of hope, Ava makes Buttercups so perfectly human. It’s not so much a chronicle of moving on from a person but of surviving the memory of being in love with a person through the pain. In small images, tender language, and moments of unadorned truth, Ava Valianti finds a language for a sentiment many are unable to put a name to. Buttercups is greater than a chronicle of heartbreak; greater than moving on from heartbreak. It’s finding a beauty of love even when love is broken. That matters, why we stay long after listening.