words going nowhere.

two seventeen

two seventeen

you bit her lip like it was candy,
fueled by lust and the soft pink skin that hinted of watermelon and mint chapstick,
her taste lingered for hours—perhaps not, but the memory of her did,
her heart, you claim, convincing yourself, it is her heart that i love
yet you yearn for her lips and forget her tears,
you kill the flowers that grow in her soul and you plant weeds instead.

but when is 2:17 and she cries in mourning of the beautiful flowers she's lost—the ones she doesn't know you destroyed,
you begin to care.
you forget her lips, and you forget the sweet watermelon mint taste,
you exchange the memories of lust for pleas of love.
yet, they go unheard.
what you don't see is how she is tending to the garden you ruined,
she's re-planting new flowers and pulling the weeds,
she realizes her flowers thrive without your neglectful watering and oblivious care.
she's moving on with a smile, denying you her lips any longer.

and suddenly it is clear to you that it is her heart that you want but her lips you remember.

1/3/2019