On our walk today,
You told me you loved him
And I vomited,
In my mouth,
Just a little.
Forcing the putrid liquid back down,
I feign support.
"Really that's great?"
Are the words that escape.
Replacing the aftertaste--
Of the ones still stuck in my bile.
Ones tasting like,
"Why can't you see my love?"
and
"What does he have...
That I don't?"
My emotionally caused nausea
Goes, thankfully, unnoticed.
As you are still lost,
In thought or lust.
I can never tell.
As we continue walking,
My stomach calms.
We acknowledge life's beauty,
In trees, in birds, in clouds.
While I am forced
To disregarded its greatest,
You.