squeezing an answer from this rotten mind of mine
peeling back the layers, the lies beneath my flesh
the bitterness between my eyes, reveals its true form
sourness wrapped in sweet epiphany
a hollow, trifling cacophony, kisses in the sweltering summer
buried these complicated memories under the fruit tree
a sympathy of half-truths, this white flaking skin blossoms
take a bite, see the way i melt under your gaze
but there's much more that meets the eye
these tears that run down your chin, revel in a thirst-quenching relief
and even if you insist it so, and have all the branches lined up in your favour  
in the place where you first met me
i'll submit to this confession, and take refuge in my admission of guilt
my dearest, the blood i bleed is crimson
not like what the world used to believe—
it must be orange.