you love me.
you love me.
you love me?

love is a broken boomerang
heavy from despiratation.
and of course it would be,
what could possibly reach my expectations?

I remember the songs I sang as a child
roses are red
and violets are blue
to five year old me I knew it was true

by age six my body had held gardens
arms and legs changing
forming and fading

iron fist gardener tended to me daily
planting roses and violets
he introduced me to domestic violence 

words of affirmation were such a rarity that dust would leap off the cupboards at the sight of transparently

a stem of torn pedals and leaves
sways uneasily in the darkness today.
I am beautiful to a stranger
that doesn't know I'm in danger
 
but my roots
are begging
for water
and a father

-k.w and l.a