You and I were twisted, once
upon the inward swirling trunk
of an outward blooming tree
that held some rotted flowers
with mangled, slimy leaves
We felt the cool wind cutting -
and the eaves dripped acid down
(onto our waiting tongues)
The scalding sensation leaves a scintillating
taste on my tongue
You and I were tortured, once
upon the sunken ship of sorrows
we called a rose bush
(but it was a tree, wasn't it?)
When I pointed out this hole in our life,  
you said a thorn is a thorn
and it hurts all the same
You and I were traitors, once
twining two upon two in the untamed rows
that grew with an abandon we craved.
If it were a tree or a bush or a flower
with mangled, slimy leaves
I wouldn't know, and couldn't say -
I'd never dare.
You and I are twisted, still
with acid-coated tongues
and thorny thrills shooting up our spines
that chill in the wind as it blows
about the slimy, slithering leaves
we call our souls.
You gave me something wicked -
Now it's up to me to decide what to do with it.