Honey and Lemon

Father and Mother never argued. They called one another Honey. With me, they were sharp

Lemon. Cheerfully bright, clean scented. It stings your tongue

I spoke my mind. Father and Mother said I was insane, they would send me to a psychiatrist. I was disobedient. They said I was like a prostitute. I stayed out past ten o’clock. I must be on drugs

I became secretive. I stood my ground. Father and Mother were disappointed. Once I had been their perfect child. Now I was dangerous; acidic. Lemon

Honey. Sweet and soft. No glares, never a harsh word, no power play. Until the evening Father and Mother told me they were separating. I didn’t see that coming. Where had the sweetness, the softness, gone? The honey jar was empty

The perfect couple was a ruin. Honey had filled the fractures

I left, never returned

Sharp, acidic, I have lemon in my soul