Your name sits on the tip of my tongue,
Along with bitter aberrations
Of love and loathing.  
Your name  commingles in my veins,
And tips my stomach
Like a tugboat in a hurricane.
In the years I have grown,
I have been shown the difference
Between the good and the bad.
I exhausted the arms on the clock
Arranging daisies of adoration
In the souls of those who were rotten.
Even the one I thought was impeccable
Has placed me on a shelf of old seashells
And bottled ships.