Bits of tar rolling down my throat
and into my lungs
used to make me feel alive
His lips tasted of metal
and his of cinnamon
and hers of freshly picked strawberries
I would bring food to my mouth
and ingest
hoping one day to feel full
To bite into something
that would not leave me
wanting for something
Drops of burning liquid
would numb my wet lips
and then my heart
the tartness of meals
led to an aftertaste of
bitterness
until I brought my lips to yours