I see that your past
Disappointment have
Made you prudent
Despite your nature, a bucket
Of soft things and butterscotch
Impressions of a child
She bit into your very soul,
Didn't she
The Woman, and I could see how
She could
You know, fruit pulp,
My past disappointments have
Made me cruel, too, I plucked
All my petals and
Kept the thorns, I guard my
Nectar as I frenchkiss
The passing bees so I could remember
How honey tastes like,
Flowers are too meek,
They can't surrender to the
Seductions of uncertainty
I planted my feet firm
Grinded my own teeth to
Star dust and dubiety
I don't bite, true
But I'll swallow you whole
Spit out the bones and
All the sharp parts.
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