A Poem by Nile Flores
The taste of disappointment
– more sour than a lemon.
The touch of disappointment
– drier than a desert.
The sight of disappointment
– like the calm before the storm.
The smell of disappointment
– rancid enough to bring tears to your eyes.
Each time I experience this, it gets worse like a festering wound.
Why do I allow this to keep happening?
Why can’t I just cut those strings?
Why do I care enough to hope for better?
I thought things would get better with you
– but I was wrong.
It’s time to move on
– and leave your bad drama behind.
I won’t have to wonder
– and agonize when your next deceptive plan arrives.
Going forward
– my senses will be filled with the freshness of freedom.