When the music's off and the room gets empty

Lemons.

My love is a lemon

Kind to touch but bitter to taste.

Enticing, yellow, and shining—

if I wasn't meant to be loved,

why was I born this way?

Was it to look under the sky,

to question why sparrows know more of the word than I?

To have claw marks down everything I know,

holding on to a love that has hurt me?

Why was I born to love,

when it is never given to me?

Why was I made to bloom,

to grow in the sun,

a new leaf grown,

only to be plucked too soon,

to rot in the shadows of someone else's need?

Why do I ache for hands

that would crush me for my sweetness,

drain me for their pleasure,

and leave me empty?

Used for my skin, drained of juice and left with a pulp unused.

Undesired, unwanted.

My love is kind to look at, sour to taste.

Was I meant to be tasted,

only to be spit out?

To leave a sting behind,

a flavor people forget when they've had their fill?

I am a challenge.

Of who can endure.

Who will stay,

who will mourn.

Who desires my sweetness enough you endure the bitter taste.

Surrounded by orchards,

plucked only when ready.

Ate for the pulp, loved for their juice and known by their color.

I am a lemon.

A fruit of longing and ache,

meant to brighten but never to keep.

-August <3

love you all! xoxo, gossip girl