Shine
You came to me with cherry blossoms.
I think that's just right; you are springtime, after all. Lightness, beauty, sunshine.
Briefly beautiful.
Sometimes I wonder when you're going to crack, under the weight of being you. No one really wants me (I'm clumsy, I know: I've broken things too easily), so I can't figure out how you feel right now.
The envy of everyone. The worshipped pussy.
It's easier to be derided; to have everyone comment on your tits and your lips. And wonder why you're still under contract when it's pretty clear that management doesn't plan on pushing you in the future.
I'm not even good enough to roll around in mud.
But you're perfect. When we meet for lunch I tell you so. But you just laugh and order another wine spritzer.
War is in the air around us. But cherry blossoms fall like snow on the ground, cluttering the gutters.
When peace enters me, I am ready for it.
You understand that I love you? That I can't do without you?
Good.
Then I'll let the cherry blossom petals wash this bitter taste from my mouth.