halsey

watermelon sugar

"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. Mt stomach would expand until I 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 into 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 defeaning dump.
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."