five years ago, when we met, you reminded me of vanilla milk. without all the artificial chocolate, you were an unpretentious, simple, clean slate. to let you slither down my throat was a facile task.
today, i have to worry about you in the way i have to watch what i eat, to make sure it doesn't have milk in it because of my lactose intolerance. i've been without you so long, taking you back into my system again is like trying to shove toothpaste back into it's bottle, it's nonviable and useless. milk has become my worst enemy, and i've grown fond of the taste of chocolate over vanilla. and to let you slither down my throat again proved difficult because it was like asking someone with asthma to run a mile without an inhaler. i've had to take special precautions worrying about you, even though the things that bother me now, shouldn't matter. and this way, i've grown accustomed to drinking soy milk. it is a substitute that gets the taste of the bile, of the words i am desperate to say to your face, out of my mouth.