I like the smell
Of boot polish
And fresh cut grass

I promised you eternity
Yet
It did not last

I like the taste
Of bananas
But not the texture

You said you
Would leave
And just let you

I like the
Warmth of the stones
In the late evening sun

Not fond of
This ache
Wish we'd never begun

But that's a lie
Cos to grieve
Is to live

I push the 'nana
Through the mesh
And give it a sieve.