You cut your foot on the floor of the laundry room,
We dressed your wound in kisses.
You pointed to a path that led to wildflowers and tall grass
And shattered beer bottles like stained glass littering the ground,
It was overgrown
Like his hair in the summer.
Something about cruise control and two left feet,
And second hand smoke from the passenger seat
And drowning the butterflies in our stomachs with seltzer water,
Because it burns like gasoline.
I'm sorry I'm not everything my first impression made me out to be.
I am a flower growing through the crack in the sidewalk but not as beautiful as the roses he got me.
Holding secrets deep like salt in wounds,
Or caskets filled with forever sleep,
Because I didn't want to hurt you and you didn't want to hurt me.