i love you, i think.
I mean, I think I love you.
But maybe, i just love the way we rot.
And now we're
Sticky Stuck. I mean, now you're glued to my
fingers but,
I still remember the first time I saw you.
We sat by the water and you told me if you
touched it, it would drain. or you'd soak it up
like a sponge.
The sun was so bright that day. We were so bright and I remember. thinking
"Cherries", finally, no, peaches.
Sweet peaches molding-pushing it's way
between my teeth.
Only 14, how could I have known? Right?
You were good to me, you didn't make my
stomach hurt. Not like all the others did.
Your sweet (soon to be rotten) juice mixed with my blood, and over and over,
I think, "I love you."
I mean, I love the way we rot.
Only because I remember the first time i saw you.
Bruised, little broken (soon to be rotten) boy.
How many times did you drain me?
Get stuck on my fingers? (and tongue).
Sweetness is a gruesome feeling, i've decided.
You drain me, no, you soak me up.
I mean, you're so good to me.
And "I'm so full", I think.
