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Cliché
October 21, 2018
I want to be your reminder
of what you once were,
of what you wish to be
but can never be again.
I want you to realize how much you’ve used me
when you find me,
mid-sentence,
on the very last taste bud of your tongue.
I want to leave a taste so sweet
you wouldn’t dare to spit it out, would you?
I want to be your redundant pulse,
to breathe life silently
until one day
your heart skips a beat—
skips a bit towards me.
And I want you to fall
head-over-heels
for your cliché that I once was
that you would always see
but will never be again.
© Sherell B., Philadelphia, PA
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