Guava Jelly

If you were here I’d lie
messily on top of you
to double the hallelujah
of meeting you once, forever,
last year.

Do you remember how we
recognized each other
somewhere in the folded
corner of a yearbook?

You teased me, high school
jokes that made me laugh;
made the guavas, no longer bitter,
ripen and burst stickily inside me.

I smacked my lips,
the jam, the juice,
sweetly dripping;
jelly and love, thick,
bright, splattering
on you.

Your fingers, gone
and clean now, dabble
in jars scraped bare
by lies, feeling for the
sugary taste of me rotting
like a summer spent missing
you in the sun.

Talk story

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