poetry

Aftertaste

First bite
is creamy and delectable
to the point where I
don't even know
how my taste buds
are coping with this
soaked coffee delight that is
tiramisu.

Second slice
starts out like a dessert
before she starts sobbing
blubbering about brokenness
and shattered promises,
and then I feel it sliding down
my scratched throat
in a heaping mass of contradictions—
bitter and cloying
like cough medicine.
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