Like a button labelled “do not press”
you’ve never listened to your mother’s instructions.
“Be nice to girls,”
“Don’t touch someone else’s things,”
barging through my door, you
scolded my table manners
“You’re so irresistible, how
could I have stayed away from you?”
Like misinformed flattery,
like a free sample,
you just had to try.
Like your fear of missing out was greater than
any pain I’d feel after you realized I wasn’t your cup of tea
spat out, my fault I was too hot
on the tip of your tongue.
for being too hard to swallow,
if only I was more complacent
I could’ve been like honey,
smooth silk down your esophagus.
Too bad my father raised me to drink my tea black
so I’d learn what quality tasted like in my own mouth.
And while you continue to disobey your mother’s axioms,
I wonder when you’ll realize she’s
the only woman who will ever love you.
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