Lemon Tree

you think yourself goddess, don’t you,

made for something grander, bigger,

your 19th turned you to a ghost,

truly empty, truly bitter inside.


you lie

like it’s going out of style, like in some future,

you’ll have to face up to your own mess,

but why would you, lemon tree,

when you could place it in someone else.


lemon tree, you picked your battles,

acidic to any gentle touch,

undone by acts of sweet compassion,

uninterested in lawless love.


grown up girl, child in too large shoes,

molding new faces every day,

tried kindness for a year or so,

But it left too sour a taste.


rotted awful, buried friendships,

sunken by your very own lips,

call yourself a saint and let yourself move on,

unwilling to look at the harm you’ve done.


you think yourself goddess, don’t you,

crying for attention, poor thing boo hoo,

but when you show off your real self,

there won’t be a soul left who loves you.


Carah Wes