where I turn...
I can't get over you and the flame still burns...
all of this
suddenly won't be
the mobile
the sunny golden room
the mandolin on the velvet chair
pour another glass
take another sip
touch the labeled package looked at every day
and never acknowledged
standing over the ripped tin foil on the counter
encasing the raspberry filling and slicing
a relic of that day so long ago
bite...
the forgotten coconut
and walnut?
pecan?
almond?
sweetness and saltiness only registers
and the remembrance of the look
on your face in the whirlpool
on that evening
that I never mentioned...
what was that thought?
I never questioned it aloud
in all this time
until now
and ultimately
it makes no difference
