Middle name Smith

I can’t get your taste
out of my mouth
forceful and deliberate
like I should have
known it from before
a time possibly forgotten
or a visit karmically delivered
your taste is not
the only linger
your texture, smell
an aroma that sickens
while reacting chemically
with my favored brain cells
to produce an effect
that tortures with its memory
why my fixation
with one who shaded
I’m even bothered
that we listened
to the songs of my longing
that play only for me
maybe it’s just too new
like a wound, fresh
spiked and still oozing
my grounded retro abuse
disguised as a perfected illusion
that only serves
and does not take
wasn’t I surprised
not just by the ground
you tried to cover
but also by that baby face
swimming in oversized grays
and aquatic yellow
a terrible fabric
that could not shield
your stiffness from
my cushioned limpness
sighing with instant regret
I gave it more chances
than really necessary
masochistically excessive
to the very end

by Kate Green