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![Image for the poem Tasting the Soup](/images/uploads/poemimages/436374.jpg?1638371034)
Tasting the Soup
I placed a kiss upon your lips,
a gift bestowed with care.
Then, I saw, but too late,
that your eyes held
other loves inside.
The pots
were stirred.
We held spoons
to our lips while fresh
and hot.
We feasted on the salty soups of love that night,
served up again and again,
haunted by the eyes of our absent lovers.
Later, we rinsed stained lips and sought our pardons.
Though forgiven, and now in the arms of my husband,
I still taste you on my tongue.
a gift bestowed with care.
Then, I saw, but too late,
that your eyes held
other loves inside.
The pots
were stirred.
We held spoons
to our lips while fresh
and hot.
We feasted on the salty soups of love that night,
served up again and again,
haunted by the eyes of our absent lovers.
Later, we rinsed stained lips and sought our pardons.
Though forgiven, and now in the arms of my husband,
I still taste you on my tongue.
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