Feast

He cannot make
a place in his heart for you.

You taste the tart and
true weight of that,

roll it about in

your mouth,

under your tongue,
against your cheek.

The tangy juices make you
salivate,

yet no wrenching claw of despair
grips your being,

no deep pit of agony
swallows you whole. Rather -

this luscious, bittersweet,
golden moment stretches across

a field of all your
moments; so full,

so ripe - you
grab it, and feast.