I dreamed I made you
love me by means of
the garden growing in
my mouth. Pollen is poisonsweet
you said and stole some
yet again&again.
Blame your sickheart
on the pedals that lost
their spot to a anemic game
of "he loves me, he loves me not."
if you so desire,
but I know the truth.
You love me because I've
got lillies for teeth.

Lyingfeathers whirl
down the tip of your
tounge to the pit of your stomach.
Where they start
to cause nervous shakes
as you do are doing
your damndest to convince
me your heart is in the
right place. Weigh them down.
with the stones cast into my garden.
You'll find yourself dizzy soon
if you do not. Sick on the floor.
Emotionalvomit-if you
do not stop soon.

So pluck all these kind little
flowers to keep&flatten in a heavy book.
&I'll have malicious intent begin to
grow in their place soon after.
It'll be missed when kindness is gone.
I'll take your pictures all down.
You learn to paint something other
than me.
We'll keep our heart shaped stones, and
I will start to forgive on my own.
Here is a toast to the everlasting
fortune of your ability to
lie and be guilty about it.

Love,
Whitney.

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others