WEEDED

I think I saw you smoking your way through that $13.99 bong I haggled off the street on Alley 420. Psychedelic by nature, with swirly patterns that deciphered our relationship as the rocky waves crashing against the Golden Gate Bridge, I thought you knew what I meant when we took a hit against our chest; rubble thrown towards our facade squares.

And don't forget, the whispering of the third's peaking high. How we watched Martha cook her way through a stew of raw emotions and felt the munchies creep up against our spines.. I shiver at the way your devoured me from down under, smacking your lips at every moan I spewed for dinner that night.

At long last, Mary has tided down and once again, I guess we're splitting up in this solitary ride.

Goodbye, my almost (lover).