seasons of ruin had flooded my flimsy plastic veins two years ago when he took his last breath. the sinking feeling of tar black grief ripped and gnawed my insides as my heart slowly crumbled and collapsed. but nothing had ever effected your golden...
cherry blossoms sprout from your golden smile, as watermelon primroses and canary yellow daffodils spill from your radiant veins. i watch you from afar with the lush green grass crunching underneath my worn out sneakers, because you're in another world of medallion suns and glittering stars which is completely out of reach for my twisted and wretched palms which are scarred with bleeding crooked lines. i want to touch you, even though my touch carries ungodly sins and malevolence which makes your skin crawl and shiver because i can't stand how beautiful and golden you are.
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mauve irises and creamy magnolias blossom as our hearts soar with ceaseless sun flecked energy. the beauty of love—the beauty of being young and in love stains our flushed hearts, but all i want this spring is the death of your rosebud heart which dared to beat while mine slowly crumbled and died.
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SPRINGhad wrapped its roots around my neck as it constricted me with its asphyxiating fruity balminess two years ago. but as i walked down the crowded linoleum hallways that familiar constricting feeling spread through me like a wildfire. you were back, and you were as golden as ever. at that moment i realized, you would forever blossom and glow like spring and i hated spring.
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