taste
how does it taste?
you asked, poised across the table,
spoon tucked neatly in the scoop.
sweet, i said as it softened in my mouth.
then, i melted against your candied lips.
how does it taste?
you asked, your nerves twisting
as tight as the apron around your waist.
salty, i said as i gulped the contents of my glass down,
throat itching for more of you.
how does it taste?
you asked with your fists balled up,
filled to the brim with frustration
sour, i said, frowning at the acidic tang
of our very first fight.
i know sweetness from your flirts.
i know saltiness from your quirks.
i know sourness from your hurts.
but i never knew bitterness
and i was curious what it tastes like.
how does it taste?
nobody asked because you are
not there, not here, not anymore.
bitter, i whispered to the empty wind,
wishing i never knew this sharp, pungent pain.