When I first met you,
You has this smile on your face.
And I swear to god
I couldn't make this up if I tried,
But if you looked at the ground
The way you looked at me,
I promise you
At least four dozen flowers
Would have sprouted right up from the ground.
You were that magical.

But three months in,
And a bottle and a half of *****,
You hit me so hard,
That you left bite marks in my mind,
And scars on my heart composed of your fingerprints.

All the flowers have died.