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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