All you ever did was hurt me. How can you expect me to.

Avoiding everything about the reality that is. The last bed you found. Down on the ground out in the cold. Were you warm still? Chills should fade when the last shade finds you. And every blade of grass. Like a landing far from Kansas. Give me a bouquet of iron. Not delicate Daisies or soft Roses. Steel stems that rust when wet. So that their blossoms seem buds with. The squint of my eye.

I actually just deleted all my old posts, updated the look of the whole thing and am starting new.