I know what love tastes like

sort of like the warm berries on your lips
mixed with chlorine and
       cheap pink perfume from a plastic spray bottle
              like lukewarm coffee that was carried on a bike by a underage boy  
  it tastes like jealousy on the roof of my mouth
at the success and intelligence that sweats from him
    like
pride that overwhelms me--a wave of warm sunshine
like a cold metal ring in my mouth (biting it nervously--the raw disruptive taste of metal waking my senses)
as I say goodbye for the day
(or week)