Of Love And Longing

I stew

like meat and prunes

in the soup

of my longing;

taste the green

astringent leaves

of my heartbreak,

that grow

like fennel bulbs

from my chest,

a flourishing bitter.

I soak,

grind you

into acorn flour,

releasing tannins

of memory,

making this palatable —

my love,

my aching loss.

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