Fuck your septum piercing and your rattlesnake tattoo
Fuck the essays you read about object/subject metaphor
Fuck your hair and fuck your eyes, especially when they sparkle blue
Fuck that I'm just "not exactly that which you've been searching for"
Fuck that you think you're still straight even though you dated me
Fuck when you get angry over losing simple games
Fuck that road trip we took through Rhode Island to "gaze at the sea"
Fuck that all your friends never learned how to say my name
Fuck that I was only ever ends to your self-realized means
Fuck that time you stood me up at the movie Encanto
Fuck the way I felt in my chest when you said you're leaving
Fuck the way these tears rained down to soil far below
The fall ground is soaked and cold rain flows and drips below the tree roots
The sky at sunset is painted a glowing scarlet rose
The trees shed their all leaves and I think that I must follow suit
Naked and washed clean, my branches bare, my heart exposed
Summer turns to autumn and I know my form belongs
Among the trees (I hate that you rejoice in metaphor)
Fuck that I still think of your approval etched across this song
Maybe when the season turns I'll think of you no more.
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