Valentine For My Ex
Subconscious thought periodically drops you into my cotton candy dream world.
The FM dial drizzles my mind with syrupy sweet remnants of the past.
I bite through the chewy nougat of what-could-have-been.
Zinfandel-laced thought processes amplify the rich, chocolatey memories, and morph them into an overindulgence that make my teeth ache.
A need, a craving.
Forgotten are the bitter lies, the lies beneath the lies.
The shattered promises.
The salty tears.
The not-so-decadent degrading words that whisper up my spine.
The surreptitious, wicked little black book with names and numbers written in code.
The rancid smell of your latest addiction on your breath.
Your vitriolic tongue, continuously degrading and reminding me of my faults.
Forgotten... until they are remembered in a moment of natural, unadulterated clarity.
Copyright © Cari Hoover | Year Posted 2017
|