my baby fills me up with peach candy and cigarette smoke, candy wrappers and empty packs on the floor. my baby's arteries are tangled (i swore i would never use another biological metaphor after i broke a nail during a bio exam) like cherry twizzlers, he's a sticky mess of sugar and poison.
my baby acts tough, but i know my baby's afraid.
i know my baby's scared.
but i don't ask and he doesn't tell.
(my baby doesn't have the guts to love me like he wishes he could)
my baby's growing me a garden between my bones, there are strawberries on my cheeks and rose petal clouds in my heart- thick vines coiling around my body like arteries, blood flowing sugary pink vodka and nicotine. im like other teenage gods, wild with charred lungs and hazy vision. his hand's resting on my thigh (its been a while since last time), my baby is my lover but its no secret we arent in love.
we watch the sun die on the horizon from the rooftops of our town.
(he watches me run away and lets me go, convinced that we will find each other.)
YOU ARE READING
ur sleeping on the couch
Poetrysticky cantaloupe sunrises & kissing ur soft honeydew mouth
