Ripe / Problems

 

 

I fell for you

when the first drop

of snow landed

 

I could have been a rose

in a field of your tulips

your bulbs

encasing my thorns

 

But you made my petals

burn obsidian

 

Your bell shaped words

prickled my husks

velveted it with your lies

 

It painted me

 

Your deceit covered me darling

 

And yet

I’ll gladly drown for you

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