Something about the way they say that they care about you so tenderly.
How they tell you they are there for you and you have them. 

You breathe in their scent and they suckle on the taste of you. 

You devour each other until there is only the flavor of each other’s personalities on your lips and theirs.
Sometimes the nectar of yourself just isn’t enough
They grow sick of the taste of you. 

And in turn you grow sickened by your own reflection.

Because you know that you are filled with such sweet nectar and you have scars branded on you back from your youth and bicycle crashes.

Whom is to say that’s not enough flavor,

So how can their sleepy eyed goodbyes and confusion define someone like you.

Someone who was carved out of red clay and carries pencils like knifes to fend off those nightmares from your childhood.

Someone who loves with every atom and shatters with every molecule.

That’s all you’re defined as a molecule, and now you’ve become split.
Just like what they did: split