"I spent springs and summers as a child eating the fruit from a watermelon. Grainy sugar bites and juice slick up my cheeks like a Chelsea smile.
My mother used to warn me, if I swallowed a seed it would get stuck in my belly and grow a watermelon plant. My stomach would expand till I'd combust. So I always spit them out in horror.
I spent a spring and summer eating from the fruit of your lips. The bounty of the soft flesh like pink sugar. Your grip on my cheeks with a hard hand holding my mouth open.
To drop seeds into my belly.
To spit a virus in my throat that grew into a giant "you" plant. The branches crawling up the walls of my insides and begging to claw my mouth open and make me say things I don't mean.
The dying leaves flaking off and swaying to the pit of my stomach in an imaginary breeze but landing with a deafening thump.
Echoes that bounce up between my teeth.
And remind my tongue that there is no more watermelon sugar.
Just empty space.
It doesn't taste as sweet."
YOU ARE READING
HALSEY
Randoma book full of everything halsey; her quotes, writing, song lyrics, anything and everything // first halsey book // © sadlands
