Smells like teen poetry

A glass of unripened poetry anyone?

The Dispensary

Don’t ever ask what happened to the truth,
He was mine to love and mine to lose
Closer than water to rain, closer still than me to mine
And yet what could rain soothe
But drown the fool in washing his wounds
What comfort can the deluge afford,
To one whose heart, like quarry sand
Is caked, scorched, and dour
Blanket this form in formless dress,
And take it to town,
To dine and dance,
And soak evermore the bitter cold down

Emotionsssssss