You were the chocolate sprinkles on my soft serve.

Burrowing into my chest like a sandcrab melting through saltwater and ocean city sand.

Fading into my body, until we became one gooey sticky sweet mess.

Such a beautiful summertime massacre.

I prefer the mountains in June. A cool evergreen breeze sighing through my buzzcut season.

This is what true royalty feels like, to sleep forever under the pines. A place we wanted to grow.

I shaved my head because I’m not yours anymore. Or theirs. I belong to my own shallow grave. So please, do not call me princess.

Disney did not forget to write my story, he was too busy creating women no one would ever receive.

My life has never gone according to plan, stopped praying before bed for my fairytale to fruition.

I created myself. A handsome hairless heroine. The tallest trunk at the peak.

Only faith I have left is in my own photosynthetic cells.

Feeling still a lingering winter. SPF cannot protect me from my own emotions.

I don’t need it to anymore.

Looking down at you from miles away like that man from lilo and stitch.

Sunburnt and confused.

Black sprinkles and ants slow dance on the concrete in my giant sugary shadow.

I wonder do the ***** still bury their troubles? I haven’t been to the beach in years.

You haven’t considered these sappy limbs a place to call home since then.

I always have and I always will.