Sweetness

Finally, I

can acknowledge

hope keeps me returning there,

even when I know it is

nothing, that there’s no

residual sweetness

between us, that

nothing remains. He doesn’t

do anything but leave

me behind like a

bad habit. He strips the sheets like the scent of me is a stain,

as if cleansing means there was no

desire, no ache disguised as sweetness.

Nothing that’s

remaining was ever

quite sufficiently

enough to be sweet.

____________________________________________________

Golden Shovel poem using the line “I acknowledge there is no sweetness that doesn’t leave a stain, no sweetness that’s ever sufficiently sweet,” from Stephen Dunn’s Sweetness.