Devastated & *****.
You grasp at exposed roots & rocks,
asking for grief to leave you.
Like they did--
but gentler.
Your face slides across the wet grass,
this is when you slice into a million,
little pieces.
You've lost one sock.
And all you can taste,
is that orange summer.
Funny how quickly citrus can sour.
Fingernails of blood & dirt--
this is where you wonder where all the flowers went?
And then you start to question--
were there ever any flowers at all?

Everything is lame,
And everything is boring.
I miss every lazy morning.
I asked you for flowers,
And got 45 minute showers,
Late replies,
And "my phone died".
I asked you for your love,
And was met with a shrug.
I can't sleep,
And I can't eat.
Where's my tree?
I miss your shade.

I remember you in the morning,
bending down to kiss me.
You were like a tree,
surrounding me in leaves.
My fingers reaching like roots,
searching for a place to bury--
A home to grow as a bing cherry,
aching for attention.
Wrap around me with your vines,
you make me feel so alive.
I will turn outwards toward the light,
and my petals will fall forthright.
My seeds will fall onto the floor,
as I am picked and eaten and ignored.
I will never die,
but I will wilt.

It wasn't enough to get ******.
My emotions were not bluffed.
I was " too young",
It was a fling.
I felt you on my tongue.
I was a plaything.
Never could share my bed,
Now you share your spread.
I wish I didn't feel hurt,
I wish I didn't get burnt.
You never even kissed me,
And now,
You act like you miss me.

Twist around your own bones,
and sheets,
and moans.
My mouth is no longer yours for the taking.
Twirl around your own selfish woven
cotton candy,
because I have no sugar left for you.
Just sand.
Small, weathered rocks.
Gritty between your teeth,
instead of pleasing
and melting on your tongue.
Your grumbling stomach tells you that you want more,
but you'll starve.
Starve on single packets of **** you bought at the grocery,
on **** you call for,
but are never there to receive.
I went fishing for compliments.
A good night, a good week, a good ****.
When I caught you,
I didn't realize the insides were all rotted out,
or else I would have thrown you back into the sea.
That sea of whatever's and
candle-lit dinners.
Of, "Let's just go with it".
And, "Woah, woah, woah, this isn't what I signed up for".
You drank milk out of a flute,
after we slow danced for the,
'I can't remember-ith time'.
I watched your lips cradle the glass,
my ***,
and then your knees.
After,
you told me you didn't want to anymore.
After you said, "I made a mistake".
After you said, "I miss you".
After you said, "I know you cursed me when the bells rang".
The curse is tasting sand instead of sugar.

Spider webs on my feet,
tangled strings in between.
Angelic death traps,
a spiders saving grace.
Don't look at my face.

You tasted my fruit and decided
you didn't like sour things.
You thought you liked the taste of lemons,
but soon found it left your tongue bitter
and tough.
I thought your sweet would meet my sour
and would leave me licking my finger tips.
But now I'm licking my wounds and
wondering if I said something wrong or
maybe I didn't make you *** hard enough...
Or maybe it's because I didn't ***.
You are King Kandy,
and my teeth have begun to hurt.