Your kiss is cotton candy, so sweet and slick and sticky with the flavored sugar burst of the promise of satisfaction but the aftertaste of empty and lost with the artificial color of your last “I love you” spilled before you walked out, the night when I most needed you to fill me with something more substantial.

When was the last time I was nourished here, where we are supposed to be each other’s center and source of the joy of being alive and in love with the world and with each other for the longest time in our lives of beauty and celebration, but you haven’t felt the desire to offer me that sustenance in a long time.

Over and over, we melt and dissolve in the rain of our differences, pouring over us like the loss we’ve both experienced before, in other loves, in other likes, but now in this place of so long together, the years of us trying to be US and not just you and just me.

I want more than raspberry blue and cherry red, a party favor, just for show, so it’s time to step away from the web of spun fluff we’ve built around us and make something that satisfies this hunger I think we both have.