Aftertaste

The words were bitter

Held on my tongue,

Turning my stomach

In a sea of nausea

My hands frozen

With the chill of

Their truth,

Ice claiming hold

Of veins that

Craved the warmth of the sun-

Words needing to be said,

Racing to the tip

Of an acidic tongue-

A fault not mine

But yours-

With their release

I found the aftertaste

Sweeter than any victory,

More memorable

Than any love,

As the deep freeze

Lifted from my body,

The scent of burning wood

Filled the void,

Signaling the bridge

That had just destructed-

The words hung in the air,

As I listened to the cracking

In your careful façade,

The face you painted

And turned and twisted

To alter the emotions

Within myself-

But I found as your pieces

Tink-tink-tinked to the ground,

That I was still whole,

A standing human

Staring at a pile of glass

Surrounded by the ash

Of the building

You constructed

With faulty framing-

A miracle it lasted

Longer than the bridge

Meant to gap the differences

Between you and I-

In the realization I found

My fingers no longer ached

For the thorns you had shared

But instead found solace

In the soil of planting a new seed

In a familiar ground,

Where your poison

Never seeped

And I had always flourished.

Katrina Thornley is a nature poet. novelist, and freelance journalist that resides in Rhode Island. She has two poetry collections currently published, a novel, as well as a short story anthology. Her poetry collections "Arcadians: Lullaby in Nature" and "Arcadians: Wooden Mystics" were inspired by a local park and life in her small rural town. You can find them on Amazon now!

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