I meant to write you a poem,
It was going to taste like
Lemonade when it rolled off your tongue
Bubbly when it kissed your lips,
Just as I wish I could
Make myself do again.
It was supposed to smell like
Lemons and honey when
It was breathed out
The words were going
To flow like my hair
When you run your fingers
Through the tangles.
It was going to sound like
The thoughts I never have the time,
nor breath, to get out.
It needed it to be everything I wish
I could say to you once again
“I love you”s and
“Please hold me”s
That get lost in the translation from
My brain to my lips,
so instead I press them
Against yours, but not today,
Today was different, yes,
not at all the same.
I was going to write you a poem,
Instead here is line
After line of thought
That taste more
Like black licorice
It feels like the words
I scream at you
When I think it’s been going
Way too smoothly lately
For us to truly love each other,
We cannot be in love,
If I don't want to hate you
All the same time.
No this poem is not sweet,
It feels like the grit
Of brick pieces in
Your bloodied knuckles,
Because we don't know
How to be nice too each other
It's always more fun
When you don't like me,
You scream at me, I know
Because it looks like
Every other relationship
I've seen in my life.
I'm sorry, I can't write you
A cute poem where I
Compare your eyes to flowers
Or roll lemonade kisses off my lips.
I don't know that kind of love.