the fight
is over
love

the fight
it’s over

I quit
you quit?
we quit
(please)
For there
has been no
winning
of this war
ever
(not for you
and me)

they say
absence
makes the heart
grow fonder
but I think
I was just plain
obsessed
with you
(I didn’t get
fonder, but I did
for sure feel
my compulsion more
as absence made
its way through everything)

boys always ruin me
I thought staring
in another spit splattered
bathroom mirror
(how does this happen,
really do people brush their teeth
onto the mirror?)

yes boys do
(and how I love them)
yes boys become men
who never really love me
(really) never
quite “so”
do ruin, me
(at least temporarily)

yes those boys
those boys
have made pudding
of my dreams
(of all my fervent
aspirings)

“pudding !??!??!”
she exclaimed giggling
“yes pudding”
I said, soberly…

goopy overly smooth
lukewarm
sickeningly sweet flavored
extra thick viscous something

something you settle for
when you can’t get the real thing
when you can’t get
double churned ice cream
and freshly baked pie
handcrafted chocolates
or truth

“ah yes, pudding
(that kind of pudding)”
she said, no longer giggling

yes. that kind

so yeah
the fight is over

let’s say we both won

(because ya know…
my mom loves
butterscotch pudding
and would be likely to choose
it over anything sweet
on that ever present menu)

so yeah
and yes
the fight is over

we both won

❤️ emily joy rosen

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