by Natalie Knox
Cherry cherries carry on with your deep red saturation on the walls of my HBIC’s office. carry on with that silly dream, only if you like the red scene. I suppose it will suffice.
It’s a tad different than the cherry coke stains on my split ends that have since turned back to bleach blocks. my mom told me to stop box dying my hair. Maybe the cherry isn’t so different from the raspberry shade of my blush. the powder makeup on my desk, not my natural hue.
cherry clings to the curbs of the toilet bowl after a night of vodka crans in my ex’s apartment. Or like the pit when you bite into it and your gums smash against your teeth, bloody. The saturated stain on your lips means “I love you.”
It tastes metallic while ever so sweet. breathe in and you’ll
be consumed by the aroma of office ink. don’t drown in the ink as you chomp chomp chomp on the cherries. bite into me like a pit and I will show you what red means.