Lemon Eyes

Talk to me with aloe vera on your tongue and a mouthful of lavender.

Allow your words to blossom like lotus flowers through the soil anchored in my ears.

As your voice increases in volume,

My mouth disconnects from the auxiliary cord and refuses to amplify itself with a speaker as it appears that you would not care to listen.

Like a knife that slices through the thick tension layering overtop of our love,

Your words twist a sharp edge through my chest with each syllable you release into the air at the same pace of my heaves of grief.

As the months stack themselves emulating the ease of attaching Legos together to build a childish masterpiece, the pain begins to create a skyscraper,

Expanding far beyond the gray cumulus clouds — getting lost among the vibrant blue that paints the oceans, occasional rainbows, and consistent rain showers.

A true obstacle for the vultures who attempt to nibble upon the vulnerable flesh belonging to a younger version of myself who still yearns for healing.

The little girl that remains hidden by the hurt, forced to create a cocoon out of the anguish faced by the adult individual that still harbors her spirit,

For she needs protection from your lemon eyes that leak acid down the round cheeks of your face and tarte saliva gulped by your throat that tarnish your whispers of I love you causing them to sound and taste sour.

It baffles me how such a bitter love can manifest between two people Professor Utonium made with sugar and spice and everything nice.

Maybe your nutrition facts lied…