The last time you trusted
me with yourself,
I knew it would never happen again
so I

ran away with a mouthful of you
and burrowed into the ground
and added you to my nest
  of people I never wanted to forget
  the taste of

cheeks puffed out
and scurrying feet
  I was gone before you had time to notice
  that I had
  taken a piece of you with me

They hardly ever notice

   because I only steal mouthfuls of
   things I know they won't miss
like distrust- which I'll bet you didn't know
      tastes like cinnamon
or fear- which tastes like milk
      that's just a little bit too old
      but when you add a squirt of chocolate syrup
      you can hardly taste the sour-ness
or anger- which has that charcoal taste
      of anything that's been cooking for too long
      
and it all makes me wonder
  if I had stuck around
         long enough
to steal a mouthful of your love

what would it have tasted like?