I grow flowers on my tongue for you.
Afraid to give you anything but my
most delicate truths.
Let them spill from my lips like the petals
we once knew.

Am I pretty enough yet?
Would you kiss me in public,
or am I just your loneliness personified?
Either way, I tell you it’s alright.

Let your sugar-water words wet the soil’s surface.
Artificially sweet, never let it seep to the roots
because I’m worthy of love,
just not from you.