The end tastes
Bittersweet on my tongue
like copper and cake all at once
I remember the sharp bite of starlight
on my skin when I wrote you poetry
promising a forever
(I guess forever isn’t so long after all)
Though the tears streaming down my face
are evidence of the wounds
You bore into my flesh
My hands are not clean
and your blood beneath my fingernails
is still wet
I can’t help but think
This is my fault too
I see the agony
carving gouges in your eyes
Old habits do die hard
because my hand still reaches out
my heart wrenching in my chest
at the sight of your pain
And yet
the taste of freedom is fresh and new
a twisting future filled with endless opportunity
all mine to claim
If only I can stand to see you bleed
Even now I can’t regret
the way your sky eyes met mine so earnestly
at the genesis of our love
the way you looked at me
your defenses stripped open
the parapets crushed to ash
the way you seemed to stare through my flesh
into my soul as if there was no one else in this world
Besides me and you in a quiet room
Images and ghost sensations
of your pianist fingers and wet lips
dancing across my skin
haunt me in the witching hours
Then, I do not think of your darkness
I do not think of mine
Instead, I see where your fingertips have left
burning trails and swirling tattoos
in the recesses of my mind
a different kind of forever
branding me with a love so consuming
I once promised you my life
Even in your absence
You are still my muse
We may end in ruin
but I will never forget
the taste of our first kiss,
the taste of our last
Submitted to the Gleaner 2020-2021 by Paige Reali
