Love’s Aftertaste

There’s still sweetness on my tongue

from a love that didn’t last

like the last sip of soda

That’s gone a little flat

But I drink it anyway.

﹁﹂

It shows up in dumb places:

the cinnamon aisle,

your favorite song in a taxi,

a stranger’s laugh

That hooks the same way yours did.

﹁﹂

I bite into an apple

And for one second I’m back

on your couch,

feet tucked under me,

pretending the future was easy.

﹁﹂

I don’t miss the fights.

I don’t miss the way my stomach

would brace for your silence.

But I miss the good parts,

and that’s the annoying truth.

﹁﹂

Love leaves an aftertaste

honey, then metal,

then nothing,

Then honey again.

(Grief can’t pick a flavor.)

﹁﹂

Some nights I brush my teeth

like I’m trying to scrub you out

the way you scrub garlic off your hands,

and still

I catch a trace,

a lingering warmth

That doesn’t ask permission.

﹁﹂

Maybe it’s not a sign to go back.

Maybe it’s just proof

I was capable of sweetness,

even with my cracked edges.

﹁﹂

I’m learning to let it linger

without letting it lead.