Strawberry fields.

We had strawberry ice cream

To match the strawberry sky's.

It tasted almost as sweet as your summer lies.

It was so sweet

I didn't notice the vines at my feet.

The cool touch on my tongue

Distracted me from the thorns growing in my lungs.

We were there, licking the red off our fingers,

It wasn't until you left

I noticed the knife in my back,

And the sticky sweetness on my hands wasn't ice cream at all.

It was blood.