Lemonade
Little bits of cruelty
drop off your words
like ice shards
off a glass of nimboopani
that still has a sliver or two
of lemon floating in it
And I hesitate to point it out
I want to pick it out of your being
Before you taste your own sourness
Before you have to swallow
your imperfections
And before the acid of it
Eats away a little inside you
But you won’t let me touch you
And well, that is good
Because your shaping,
your awkward slants
Must not be blamed on someone else
Regret you see,
is much harder to live with
than pain
But those are lessons you’ll learn
Maybe the way I did,
Beyond love & sunlight headaches
and grass stains & hickeys
and the spicy high of cheating
and the bittersweetness of being loved by someone you don’t love back
and endless hopeful hunger
of unrequited affection
feeding on itself
Or maybe, some way else,
with someone else
But learn you will
And one day your purity will not be so fragile
Your cleanness will be a bit yellow
Clean but not so white
And we’ll have a glass of lemonade again
where I’ll pick out sour lemon shreds
and you’ll tell me that they add texture and flavour to life.
