salt and smoke

I always thought love was sweet
Melting chocolate morsels in my mouth
After the wound was formed,
Bowls of ice cream calmed me down
And chocolate milk soothed the pain

Surely, the wound must be healed by now.
And it is.

But a scar remains

Some days so light you wouldn't notice it there
Other days, deep and purple like a bruise.
And other days, it opens wide
And I pour the salt – surprised at first, by the taste of my tears
Desirable for a moment
If only to remember

But soon it burns.
And I'm brought back
To the day I stood
in the kitchen
With the batch of charred cookies in my gloved hand
My tears burnt
My heart scorched

And you with the flame in your hand

Still
s
m
o
k
i
n
g

Now
I have grown accustomed to the salt.