In which I dwell on a love lost
I was young when I met you.
I, sixteen, and you sixteen in a pack – so strong, so reliable. You seemed so available back then.
I couldn’t get enough of you. Ignored the murmurs from my family, my friends.
I needed you.
But your sugar coating was skin deep.
You turned my bowels into burning pipes of doom.
O! The diarrhoea!
The tender eruptions of our love!
My stomach filled with the broken shards of our promises, and inflated till it tried to escape my chest. Vomit stained my nights.
My stomach in my mouth, I had to let you go.
Many years have grown between us now. I watch others flirt with you and bite back warnings. They will learn.
He sleeps now, my Morpheus, he doesn’t know I once loved another. He is a gentle tonic after your burning love, for all that he is slow to respond when I call him.
You, oh, you were my first love.
I wonder sometimes, if I were to meet you again, would we be as once we were?
Sweet sixteen and the pain of the world washed away.
But my digestive system belies my heart.
My guts have never forgiven you.