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Metallic Tastes of Love

We laid vertically,
across the horizontal bed.
I stayed up half the night with you,
reading Dickinson, Plath, and Sexton.
Reading religiously,
waiting to lend our lives.

I remember the way you smiled,
and how warm it felt into my soul.
I can still feel your kisses,
and your laugh,
resounding in my mind.
I miss you.

Together, we decided.
Nothing is really worth this.
Together, we bought it,
and I laid up back in my bed.
Opening our Bibles again,
we read and analyzed until exhaustion set in.

I placed the drink on my tongue,
and felt the metallic taste, like blood,
rise again and again my mouth.
I kissed you a million times,
each time spilling the metallic warmth into you.
Repetitively, kissing and drinking, unto you fell asleep.

Alas, I slept too,
and woke to neon hues of life.
What? The metallic taste still burns on my tongue.
And as I hold your milky hand tonight for the last time,
I can’t fathom why this worked for you
and not me?