the sweetness that collected on my lips has run dry
he asks me why there are cuts on my lips
i've been swallowing the razor blades of words he spits at me
sometimes his words feel like sandpaper
sometimes i can handle them
but more often than sometimes i find myself distraught
because he does not love me
he will never love me
he asks me why there are cuts on my lips
maybe it's from biting them too hard
when his words feel like lashes of a whip
he tells me he loves driving in the evening
because the sky is beautiful and the night is just the beginning
he asks me why there are cuts on my lips
maybe it's from the thorns that scrape my gums
after all
roses have always been my favorite flower
