Long Figured Out

He was beautiful,
then ugly

sweet,
but forgot my birthday

a luscious language of limbs
all reckless with connotation,
then declared the air too sweaty
and left me dripping

those lips once the ripest shade of passion fruit,
part now only when pried, and those words,
pesky little anchors,
their steel worth still
a careful sigh away from discerning

he was a peach
In the pit of my belly
that burrowed in

I loved him
until i loved me not