my baby's warm n' vulnerable, strangling his flower roots in his bedsheets. he's rearranging his being in his sweet angel teenage mentality that rots in his brain like thick honeydew and i'm sobbing against the sheets of the bed, gazing at the ocean and letting the mosquitoes plant their summer heat love into the salty skin of my knees.
nostalgia tries to die in my rose ribs, figuring he's made a home here in my being. nostalgia tries to cut a piece of time like a bee's sting cuts through the soft seashell skin of a baby. nostalgia tries to vomit the concept of time into my brain and my baby says i'm gorgeous just like that,
sitting in a teenage dream, garden of flowers,
when nostalgia is your lover, there are certain things you just have to grow to love or else you'll be clutching your stomach and letting the softness of one a.m. melt into your skin like cream thick ice cream. you have to be patient, and grow to love yourself. you are a flower, a baby birthed from the womb of a lotus
when he pulls a flower out of your brain, don't be afraid; he's just trying to find himself
when he curls up beside you in a bed and sobs so that mother moon has to lean in from the sky to kiss him soft in angel dreams, he's just letting the memories bleed in cherry red
when he dies in your garden and you are left wailing like the envious sun, be kind to his honey brown soul; it has been bruised enough; he is not a peach and he doesn't bruise and turn sunset
when he turns up somebody else by the1975 and dances with you on the mattress of your bed with your subconscious of gauzy dreams and silk sheets
when he sobs and he looks sad just like me and his tears turn to flowers that grow down his dewy skin
when he turns the t.v. on static and kisses the screen like it's his a.m. god
when he tries to be an beach sand baby in the hotel room mirror but he's just a tired boy he's,
just feelin' lonely and wants to paint the sun he devoured into your mind so you'll remember,
so you'll remember that,
time is a state of mind,
and
in your brain,
it was all relative.
