Banana Split

Torn into pieces, tugged and worn
like the old rope we used to use in tug of war battles
or the banana you peeled for the ice cream split.
Confused and muddled, self or forbidden love,
decisions, always decisions. head hurts like a spark
from the electric fence we used to play near.
or your hands when you tried to open up the cherry jar.
dreams fogged with the mist and dew
covering the ground we used to camp on.
or the sprinkles gracefully falling on the cold mounds.
giving up in the epic battles when
we used to wrestle to the floor,
tripping over the video game cords.
or the gentle twists of whipped cream.
Tangled and forgotten, left alone to rot,
sitting in the ice blue bowl.
one day, maybe one day,
all will mend, make sense
and the ice cream king will appear again.