The quick, sudden thing

left without remorse.

It took away the beating,

skipping that my elated heart

favored, and gave me

an ache that elevated—

choked. The dread settled

in, leaving me for dead.

But, the taste it left on my lips;

a sweet cherry recently

stained and harbored.

My tongue wiped the

sweetened stain, and

every day I had to

steal that taste.

Until recently, that sweet

taste became bitter, and I

could no longer savor

my memory.


Danielle Lambert

Leave a comment

Filed under Fall 2016, Poetry 2016

Comments are closed.