I push you away,
And cry when you don’t come back.
My heart races in my chest,
Throbbing so hard for your attention.
It runs up my throat,
Beating its way out.
I hack up flowers; golden.
Crescent petals that curl out,
Spread open, exposing it’s delicate sex
And my heart.
Runs of scarlet trickle down my lips,
And splash against my bust.
My heart is racing again.
As my stomach pirouettes and entangles itself,
I do nothing. In hopes you will instead.
I hiss and spit,
I bite at your hand which feeds me,
I collect my golden flowers and give them to you,
You take them and say nothing else.