Gone,
like the flavor from bubble gum
after I've swallowed the last
juicy, sweet, bubble gummy bit
some time back.
Flat,
after too many pops,
rolling and chewing and dying,
resisting my mouth
with no bit willing to stretch.
Tired,
the ache in my soul
like jaws did all the work,
folding and pushing and missing
that you're no longer fun.
Spit,
on warm ground
to find a shoe and grip,
unwelcome, scraped aside,
I've already got the good parts out.