Tumblr asked me where my Eden is,
Referring to Eden as a place or state of great happiness,
And all my thoughts immediately went to you.
with your perfect, almost nappy hair,
Ans your long, white, pretty teeth,
And your wonderful hands,
And your comforting arms,
And all the rest of you.
You seem to be my Eden,
where all my best ideas stem from.
But you're also my fruit:
the source of my frustration.
You make my blood boil to the point where
my hands and feet go numb.
And you ignore me
And you impact my judgement.
Like the alcohol we drink
and the weed we smoke.
Why must you be you?
My fruit and my Eden?
The source of my inspiration and
the same of my frustration?