A Thirteen Year Old Dream

I’m trying to forget the times
when you made my heart burn faster,
made my stomach burn acid into my sides,
forget when you made ribbons of my skin
and the pyrotechnics in my eyes
were pressure pains,

when your words were rope burns
and I held them close like flower petals.
You fed me daisies by the mouthful
and I swallowed every one without complaint.

I would have cut off an ear for you too,
if I wasn’t afraid you wouldn’t love me
without one. So I’m trying again to forget
the shattered windows you installed,
and the yellowing grass on the lawn.