In a Poem
You once compared me
To a cactus
I don't know if I can stop
Pricking
And bleeding lovers
But
I want to marry you one day at 35 (or 25)
But
I'l try
But
I'm not a cactus
I'm moss
And I roll
Baby

I'm losing momentum though
And it's too much to ask
You
To be my Sisyphus
I won't do that
Not to you or me
Because im broken
And sometimes sickly
Obsessed with my symptoms
Goodnight
And travel well