A CUP OF SCORPIO VENOM

rotten apples

rotten apples

love is a poison apple
– beautiful and satisfying, but eventually kills you inside.
the thought of love used to shine so bright;
i would climb bridges, now all i do is cringe.

i was in love once.
i picked the poisonous apple that hung so beautifully above the rest.

i would lay awake, praying that this love would never die,
only to find out a year and a half later, the love would kill me instead.

too young to understand love,
but old enough to feel the hurricane of heartbreak.

i once saw a beautiful garden full of red roses,
only to blink and see the garden we so perfectly grew turn black, like the love you once shared with me.

i was a seed and you were the water that made me grow,
and once i started gaining my petals, you became the drought that turned me back to a seed.

as time passed, i found my heart screaming as you watered another petal,
leaving me thirsty and destroyed.

my brain kept fighting within itself.
why?
because i wasn't blooming as beautiful.

was my petal not worth watching?
did your rainfall collide with another petal that didn't need as much of your help?

my worst enemy i would not wish such a thirst for a love they can't have.

i became a weatherman, trying to forecast him back in my direction,
only to be let down and die a little more inside.

all i wanted to do was bloom with you,
and all you wanted to do was vanish so quietly.

years have passed, and i wonder if his rainfall is ever cloudy over my now fully grown flower.

does his cloud want to water over me again, or does his cloud not even remember that he was the rain that pulled my roots?

regardless,

i will never pull the poisonous apple again,
i will never let my garden die so tragically
because this time
my garden was built from my rainfall,

and his isn't welcome.

— e. gould