why we do the things we do

Beautiful pink flowers and brown muddy waters

Green bushes and bristles, pushing out from the bank into the sun 

Weeds sprouting out, growing and growing 

I threw a needle at the mirror, the whole thing shattered,

leftover lipbalm sits in my pocket.

I would’ve never kissed you if I knew you were straight 

False memories might betray me but,

i think i used to look up this street, and dream,

dream about becoming one with the pavement

where the road met the sunlight

I could almost taste the harshness,