My blurred past clawed onto glitter-dipped doom
where the warm cotton skies cry goodbye
Purple florets of nostalgia beg to bloom
from underneath my fingertips of chai
Venom-laced smiles parted
Sympathy isn't our native tongue anymore
Our efforts had left us half-hearted
At least now, our sins have danced out the door
Honeyed havoc tore apart henna skin
and although God keeps our souls safe at night,
so many of us forget that sometimes in order to win,
you need to walk away from the fight
We sank our teeth eagerly into the apple of age,
almost forgetting it had a core
The bittersweet waves caught me up in their rage,
and now I'm back to missing the shore.
