a year full of life

strawberry lemonade

straw·ber·ry lem·on·ade

1. the taste of your tongue and the feel of your lips: it's sweet then tangy then intoxicating and if someone asked, i might even tell them that it's my favorite drink [though that would be a lie]

2. the feeling of plucking my fingernails one by one from the beds of my nails: it hurts so much but was oddly pleasant, like when you scratch an itch only to realize you've caused yourself even more annoyance [that's kind of how i think i feel about you]

3. i guess it's a confession of sorts too: kind of like when i say i love you [i mean it with every kiss you place onto my fingertips but when you're absent, not so much]

4. i think i can say with certainty, though, that it's the feeling churning deep within my gut when you tell your friends i never loved you [you always loved to play the victim] because for a second i taste something sweet [could it be a release? finally free at very last?] and then i realize it's all a show [when have you ever not mocked me? it's become second nature to you, i suppose] you play the strings of your perfectly plucked guitar [entrancing everyone around you] and then cut the strings when you get home and know that secretly i'm watching you crush my dreams