Taste bud Numbness

In my dreams, I saw you knocking me out of my incognito.

Delicacies in your platter you’ve offered, I grab some—a common dish and swallowed it with my pride and biases. But as my love for you had long been gone, my taste bud had long lost its craving for flavor and pleasure.

My cup had long empty of longing for your return. You were gone long ago, that I couldn’t ask my tears to flow—in sorrow as you were about to go—just in courtesy, not wanting to be rude in feeling peace in your departure.

As the taste I can’t recall, I can’t find the longing I must feel now you will soon be gone.

I tripped my toe and cried a low “ouch!” so low for anyone to hear. I cried in pain as I felt blood flowing in my nail, I covered for you not to see.

You looked into my eyes. You seemed satisfied seeing the soon-to-flow tears.

In my mind I claimed victory—in my heart I felt numb—calloused by the past, when you first departed slashing a genuine pain in my innocent crux; a distant past when I did not have to trip my toe to shed tears for you, rather need to hold my heart from shattering into pieces—thinking how could it be fixed once you’re gone, out of sight, out of grasp.

But now, you’re here a grasp away from my heel. Yet, I feel nothing—no excitement, no longing—just a silent hope and wish that you’ll be gone again; out of my sight, out of my grasp—afar from the silent, peaceful world without your existence.