Please Don’t Make This One Rhyme
I search the grocery store aisles
for honey-flavored vinegar.
A smell I always seem to hate,
but a taste I still remember.
They don’t sell it like they used to,
with a note taped to the top—
warning of side effects,
and maybe even cops.
I didn’t expect they still would,
not after all this time.
But then again, I still find myself
waiting for you each day
to come and wash off my crimes.
If you’re reading this, just know:
the stars still shine real bright.
And just because you can’t see them
doesn’t mean they’re
out of sight.
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