Tang

 

When I kiss you I taste Tang,

the bitter sweetness lighting

up my lips, my tongue. Memories

of an old you play in my mind.

But that you really wasn’t

you. It was him, before

he left and took my heart

with him hundreds of miles.

The Tang on your mouth tastes

like his old cigarettes,

sticky lip-gloss, and music

playing way too loud as wind

brushed hair against our cheeks.

I kiss you and remember

who we were: the best

of friends, lovers meant to be.