You’re a figment of the flavors in my imagination
Poems used to flow from me
like pitchers on filthy Friday
When I could taste your fruity orange
So I canned you cleverly to keep
My own jarred jam
growing richer with time
You’re mixed with coriander and cardamom
Rich and bitter
Complex and aromatic like an after dinner liquor

You were not so complicated
Fresh and shockingly sweet
ripe juicy laughter
But I can't taste your **** tangerine anymore
Just aged jelly
Tainted by my sugared imagination
Salted by hallucinogenic memories

You never tasted like a jar of jam
I ******* own bitterness
My own fear inflected upon your sunny orange smile
You aren’t old and canned
You’re dynamic and quick
A marathon sprinter
A warm melting winter