We used to eat jam together, every morning.

The strawberries were squeezed from our smiles

Blooming our cheeks with ache.

We would laugh and our red tongues would show

And we would laugh at that, too.

We gave each other secret looks

That made our eyes burst with honey;

No one else could see the bees

stinging the corners of our eyes.

Our language was an ancient one

So secretly forbidden

That no one in the world could understand.

Except for us.

I loved that language.

-

For years, we shared the jam, and the honey, and the language,

Until one morning, you didn't show up.

I waited for you to come, and when you didn't

I ate the jam myself.

The taste was lonely.

Later in the day,

When I tried to find your eyes in the crowd,

I could not find them;

And if I did, you looked away.

-

I ate my jam alone for a while.

-

After a while, when I felt you had gone for good

You showed up again, the nextmorning

Spreading the jam

Looking to me through the door (pleading?).

(You wanted me to pretend so badly.)

I managed one smile. So did you.

We ate our jam in silence.

The strawberries were awkward.

I forced myself to swallow the angry bees in my throat.

I grinned painfully.

-

Any taste is better than this, honey.