… the milk dribbled down my chin in the kitchen
just moments after I tried to guzzle every drop
of the soy you dropped off – a spontaneous Saturday gift that
sent my love pulse back into irregular-
too fast paced to be just an ignorant side girl.
but,
my metaphors smiled that day, and
I labeled them “different.”
virgin white beads of milk
blended
into linoleum floors
just kissed by both our soles
where I now stand,
alone,
and unknowingly
liberated.
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