I bought some chapstick.
You said to get the kind you use,
So it’ll remind me of you.
In the parking lot,
I unwrapped the tube and spread it on my lips,
Indulging in what felt like you.
The moisture repaired my cracked skin.
A fresh start for my xerosis.
Honey flavored!
I didn’t think twice.
When you called me two days later,
My body froze with your news.
I knew you’d dump me.
Not so sweet after all.
And now I have this ******* chapstick,
Honey flavored, mind you,
That brings me back to a place of a past time.
I use this chapstick everyday,
Hopeful that one day I’ll actually use it all.
What we had will be gone.
Two months have passed,
And I can’t seem to make a dent.
Will you always be around?
At least my lips are always moisturized.
As I moved on,
I watched the parts of you that lingered in me
Completely vanish.
I began to notice,
The chapstick isn’t honey flavored.
It’s scented with hellos,
Flowering bushes,
Springtime summersaults,
And fresh cider.
Every spread of that chapstick tube I use,
A part of you peels away,
Like the dead skin that previously surrounded my lips.
But the more I stare at that golden, honey design on the chapstick,
The more I come to realize that it’s just chapstick.
Nothing else.
No more,
No less.