If My Heart Could Speak

If my heart had a tongue, it would taste the bitterness of love’s expiration date.
Like a bottomless jug of milk, blinded by the size of it, it makes one forget that it doesn’t last forever. 
Is it fine to eat something so sweet, 
if the aftertaste is worse than the pleasure?
But maybe instead of giving emotion a flavor, it would be better if we gave the tongue it's independence.
If my tongue had a heart,
It would speak of how the bitterness had made its buds lose taste, losing the naivety that made her dream.
 Back when love was holding hands, and SAYING, “ I LOVE YOU ”. Back when love was like ice cream, or spaghetti
and not licorice or black coffee. 
If my tongue had a heart,
It would say that it’s not hungry.
That it just recently ate from a bowl filled with cereals called betrayal.
Recently drank from a glass called emptiness.
But yet these overbearing people who hold the spoons of my life continue to feed me from the same box of cereal from the counter.
They haven’t left me time to digest the depression that’s built up inside me,
nor room in my mouth to vomit the toxicity that burns my throat. 
The same exact toxicity that prevents me from loving again.
It’s a cobra’s poison... slowly creeping to my mind, corrupting the way I think, until finally,
They get to me. 
I'll be the one making cereals from the trauma factory,
The parent that feeds my children the milk of life’s monotony 
Hoping it would make their bones stronger, 
but no,
instead it just acts like a crutch 
for all the times that I've broken my bones
From the people who told me they love me
Only to leave me in the end.