The Five Flavors of Grief
The supermarket ice cream aisle
is where I head when feeling blue.
The only way I know to cope—
a gallon—nothing less will do.
In wounded daze, I go to grab
his favorite flavor, Cherry Swirl,
my heart refusing to accept
he’s dumped me for another girl.
The sudden sting of freezer burn
ignites my anger. He’s a toad.
I don’t need him. I’ll persevere
and stoke my strength with Rocky Road.
Then just as quick, resentment melts.
I’ll get the one I like the least.
My sacrifice will bring him back.
Lime sherbet. Bargain of the weak.
But what’s the point? He made it clear.
It did no good to cry, to plead.
I’ve never felt so much despair.
It’s chocolate that I truly need.
I’ll find a man who treats me right
instead of like his serving wench.
A sweet vanilla guy. Although,
it wouldn’t hurt if he were French.