Fruit Pits

There's a pit in my stomach
Because sometimes before I write
I anticipate association
A kind that is painless and therefore painful -

And then I am back to warm nights
Rubber wheels on asphalt
Moving my legs to and fro restlessly 
While I rest in the grass -
Smiling dumbly at you
My eyebrows raised while you talk

Cars whir by so closely but we've grown used to it
I watch the shadows of us they cast
They ebb and flow restlessly
The rest of the world knew we were fleeting before we did

We are sitting in my room
The place that looks most like my brain
Filled to the brim with sentiment 
And other useless things
We are crosslegged

You are enamoured with the concept of being sharp
Your mind, your wit, your will
Your nails
You think it's funny to nick me
And I did too, then

Those ticks faded under my skin
Infected with disease
But not nearly green enough
It is something old, timeless
It cannot be cured
Or plucked out of cells

People have tried to stop loving

There's a pit in my stomach
Because sometimes I think of you
And there's nothing I can do
Because I cannot take steps back
And re-circle the earth
And tell myself never to love you