I know you hate beets. But at least beets are reliable, they always bleed. Like hearts. Like the way every relationship ends. In tears. Tears are good too. Salt and water, the essentials of living. The compounds that tie us to earth, air and sky all at once. But we forget we are tethered, we seek heaven even after knowing only dirt has life, only dirt is sublime. Because it makes us blurry, lets us inside out without prejudice, feeds on our hearts so beets can grow.