How dare you tell me to withdraw,
When you know that I can not
behead myself?
Is this my prize now, to swoon?
If only my love for you was a balloon,
then I would just grab a needle.
‘Pop’, and I am gone, without wheedle.
How dare you ask me
to slit my own throat?
You sowed a seed in my heart,
and your roots grew faster,
Much sprouter, than your shoots.
I held you pseudo-holding me,
My dear, Desert Rose.
I mean, Plastic Rose.
Because when it gets hot,
you melt like floes.
Even in the virility of my storm,
my faith danced with the wind.
How do I reap you off my ground,
when you are the sweet of my wound?
To love loving you,
When you smacked me on the face,
with your eyes closed.
Even though you were lost to grace,
my fears, I disposed.
How dare you tell me that,
it was all an act?
How dare you?