006 – dessert

coconut and custard milk tea,

a drink that i never ordered

but i got anyways;

a little slip of the tongue on our first date –

i had wanted chocolate.

 

i didn’t kiss you until over a week after,

the two of us leant against a wall

after i had chased after a cat,

distracted from buying a milkshake –

kissing you was far better.

 

i shared a lot of things with you,

my past, my dreams,

food, bickering over the bill,

cookies i had made for you

packed carefully into clear takeaway boxes.

 

now you’re gone,

i have nothing left to give,

because when i shared these things with you,

you took it all,

and never gave it back.

 

after you left,

i didn’t want to eat

everything that met my lips

reminded me

of what would never touch them again.

 

nowadays,

i have no appetite

because everything i liked

i shared

with you.

 

nowadays,

i chew,

swallow,

hope it’ll give me enough strength

to live for someone who cares.

 

right now i’m eating

coconut and chocolate icecream,

cold on my tongue,

it reminds me

of my drink on our first date.

 

it tastes nothing like the the apple sorbet

we shared together

that beautiful, beautiful day,

a saturday,

the fifteenth.

 

we walked around the suburb

amidst crowds of people

you held my hand

and i

bought you a stuffed rabbit.

 

i gaveĀ it to you,

wrapped in your hoodie

the everlast one,

that still smelt of you

after a week in the bushland.

 

i gave you the stuffed rabbit (i don’t regret it),

twenty dollars out of my purse (i lied to you about the price at first)

wrapped in the hoodie you lent me (on request)

when i spent the holiday at that army camp (it changed me, it changed you),

alone, without you (the two were synonymous)

 

i remember the way your eyes lit up,

i remember the way you brought it close to your chest,

i remember the crinkle of your eyes,

i remember you thanked me,

i remember you kissed me.

 

it was on that day,

we sat at those silver picnic benches.

you’d spilled some of your taiwanese dessert on your white shorts,

and the two of us

laughed.

 

that day,

i was wearing a white dress.

you said that

when i wore it,

i looked like an angel.

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