ask me how sadness tastes, and
i’ll tell you to eat my mother’s delicacy.
it is cooked in her heart and is
sweet as the lemons.
every night, we long for it in her eyes
his indifference, and the lifeless embrace.
and we hate how we cannot unmake
the nights when
the delicacy is served in our dreams.
excerpt from “sadness as a sweet delicacy“