Compostable.

And I’ve always loved you like waves,
Crashing onto the shore.
I kept telling myself,
I can’t love you like that anymore.

The smell of you lingers;
Covering my clothes;
Pouring out of my pores.
Hanging on my heart,
Like a car freshener.
Rooted like a tree.
Consuming all of me.
The taste of your tongue--
Is etched in my buds.
Drooling for more,
Of this unwanted love.

“Fall in love with a writer,” they said,
And you’ll live forever.
Written on paper.
Compostable like never.
​Your words don’t mean a thing.

​xo, p.
10/10/2018

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