Lemon

hi, my name is Lemon

hi, my name is Lemon.

i didn't ask for this. we didn't ask for this.

but there's nothing we can do.

...

there must be something i can do.

i am so young yet so tired

of holding back the world.

i am sour and bright and a victim

of myself just like everyone else.

when you kiss me i am lemon lips.

i'll make you pucker,

but i always run away

before i slide into your cuts--

before i add on to mine.

before you can turn on your heel

and crush my roses under your feet.

because i'm not worth it.

i'm not sweet.

my name is Lemon.

yes, mother, i'm trying my best to breathe.

mushroom clouds and custom doubts

grip my neck and squeeze.

i stare at stained glass windows

and wait for divine intervention when

i should have just picked up the phone.

the distance between me and home

wraps itself around me like the umbilical cord

that nearly choked me in the womb.

my voice casts a shadow on my home.

i need them to know i can do this,

but i am betrayed by voice cracks and voicemails.

all of it, every sour sting seizes me, clenches me,

tightening my skin till bones begin to crunch.

with a sleepy smirk, i let it squeeze me. i am Lemon.

so let it leave no part of me intact. i am reborn.

i let the sour drip in hopes i become lemonade.