I bought some chapstick.

You said to get the kind you use,
So it’ll remind me of you.

In the parking lot,
I unwrapped the tube and spread it on my lips,
Indulging in what felt like you.
The moisture repaired my cracked skin.
A fresh start for my xerosis.

Honey flavored!

I didn’t think twice.

When you called me two days later,
My body froze with your news.
I knew you’d dump me.

Not so sweet after all.

And now I have this ******* chapstick,
Honey flavored, mind you,
That brings me back to a place of a past time.

I use this chapstick everyday,
Hopeful that one day I’ll actually use it all.
What we had will be gone.

Two months have passed,
And I can’t seem to make a dent.

Will you always be around?
At least my lips are always moisturized.

As I moved on,
I watched the parts of you that lingered in me
Completely vanish.

I began to notice,
The chapstick isn’t honey flavored.

It’s scented with hellos,
Flowering bushes,
Springtime summersaults,
And fresh cider.

Every spread of that chapstick tube I use,
A part of you peels away,
Like the dead skin that previously surrounded my lips.

But the more I stare at that golden, honey design on the chapstick,
The more I come to realize that it’s just chapstick.

Nothing else.
No more,
No less.