This is not my fault, but it was.

We are the worst dancers on this show.

Left, left, right, right. Left, right, left.

We never seem to get it.

Once, though, we almost did.

But I spun out too fast, and you we’re done trying to catch me.

I’m sorry.

We were moving too fast.

But this time you were the one behind the wheel, driving through my sunflower fields in the middle of winter.

Ripping up weeds, and spreading seeds; flowers can’t grow in the cold.

We said that it was fine.

It wasn’t.

I let you sink your porcelain teeth into my skin like I was a ripened peach that you found in the middle of a desert.

You can say all you want how you want the rain to come again

To show me how easy it is for you to clean our dirt off your shoes.

But you and I both know

Some stains can never been removed,

Unless you rip up the carpet.