accursed: sheathed in sharp thorns of blood-red roses gifted by past lovers and poison ivies grown in the backyards of forsaken hearts. dazzling mademoiselle with her treacherous garden of caladiums and lobelias- bleeding hearts blooming on her lilac wounds.
lilac wounds: dying skies and glorified thunderstorms oozing from the crevices underneath her red-rimmed eyes. fractured collar bones blooming daffodils like the ones william wordsworth wrote poems about. the god-curst sun hollers from the east, but the honeyed petals cast sapphire shadows over her pathetically silken lashes and mahogany freckles adorning her melanin face.
"my lover is chocolate-chip moons dipped in vanilla milk galaxies and petrifying-ly unapologetic of it"- benjamin would say. oh, sweet ben- with his paper-thin smiles and ruinous eyes, slicked-back hair, and posh words. amidst her butterscotch tongue and filched souls of pretty boys drowning upon them- benjamin was just another myopic moth that decided to kiss her sweet venus lips.
fair-weathered friends on thursdays and blue feels on mondays, but oolong tea in china cups and stargazing through rose-tint lenses was unmeant therapy for her. though lover boy was the one to detach the vile thorns off of the withering roses with his bare hands; pouring the sacrificial blood on the poison ivies, alternating them for something she could finally entitle prepossessing.
after all, that is the finite definition of love, right?
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guava achings ✓
Poetrybanquets of succulent peaches in tin cans and pretty boys with passionflowers blossoming from their cuticles.
