i thought i knew you, but i only knew the rendition i wanted to believe you were: a boy that planted winter-flowering cherry seeds with his words and had starlit planets for eyes. but nothing you said ever made plants grow and your eyes never looked basked or microcosmic, you were just a boy with beaten bottled hands and half eaten apple eyes. your skin once looked like it was crafted by a seraphic but my palms only lotioned the scutes of your snakeskin. you wore yourself with satisfaction that it gave you so much fucking pleasure to watch yourself unclothe. you didn't need me but you still kept me pleated at the bottom of your tongue that lapped the sickeningly acid juices of other femme fatales.
my dad warned me that you were rotten and that you would fill my insides with maggots if i ever let you in. i tried, but you never cared for what i thought. you thrust your fingers into my mouth until worms slithered out my eyes and flies laid their larvae onto my bones. you made my dad watch how you made me fester,
"look how rotten she is!" you hissed
in my ear. "so dainty and perfect."
