I can be so **** fickle.
Get into situations that end so sour.
Sweet memories turn bitter.
Always craving to be forever green,
but then fear any routine.
Changing my flavor so fast like I've been pickled.
And now I’m an acquired taste.
I like it, but I know not many do
and most importantly you.
For you, vinegar reeked of betrayal.
I always knew you hated pickles.
Now you cannot stand the sight of me.