Distasteful

“We will talk,” he says, as if those words will bring me any solace. From this moment, nothing will ever be the same. I am now anticipating a conversation where I will have to swallow every word that escapes your mouth; I will taste every syllable that rolls off your tongue. “Things are just difficult,” he says as if anything in life is easy. As if up to this point I’ve never dealt with strenuous circumstances. But I have not allowed those difficult things to deprive me of such a beautiful feeling of awe. I know it may be hard to explain, but give it to me raw, I can bare it. I’ve heard scarier things within my thoughts during those late nights that I thought would never end. But they eventually turned into mornings. I deserve to know, how difficult life must be with me in it. Don’t spare me the gruesome details I want the grittiness of your soul to reflect onto mine; I want to endure the essence of “Difficult” from within you. Explain it to me slowly; I want this final talk to mean something. It’ll be our last one for us like this. I want it to be savored and fulfilling. I want it to leave a bitter taste in your mouth, so that after you withhold this conversation & express to me how “Difficult” it is to want me you will notice you aren’t the same without me. Every time you swallow, I want the relish of my lips to resonate on your taste buds. Months later, living your life without me, then you could say– “It’s just difficult,” & I would believe you.