When I met you,
your kisses were as sweet as the
summer honey dripping
from the trees and flowers.

You were sticky with sweat,
working too hard to make the moves
you thought would
coerce me into your bed.

When I finally gave it to you,
your autumn hands grew hungry.
I don't know if the leaves falling
made you think you were running out of time
but your fingers became quick and greedy.

You peeled away my petals one by one,
and as you plucked me to my core
I heard you mutter under your breath,
"I love you, I love you not"

You picked me clean,
stripped the flesh from my bones
and left me to freeze in winter air.

When I finally threatened to leave,
you came back swinging,
I mean screaming,
words hurling through the space between us
but I think this time the distance was
finally enough to keep me safe.

When you started giving up,
you left me with nothing but a cheap bunch of flowers,
bought with whatever change was in your pocket.
But it was springtime and
I didn't need your flowers anymore.