you[r soul] tasted

buttery, like a many-layered croissant

melting in my mouth, turning over and over

into itself, at first so light and airy,

like losing you would maybe be sweeter

than I thought

then

settling thick and heavy in my stomach

weighing me down, churning up

nausea, threatening to back up into my throat,

becoming bile-filled, full of painful nothingness

creating a permanently bitter aftertaste

that still

refuses to leave me