Photo by Brian Hefele
My first love was fresh
as newly purchased milk.
But it expired a month before
you said you no longer loved me.
I could not see its transformation
to stinky, rubbery cheese.
Friends begged me to throw you out.
I couldn’t bear knowing you were waste.
In your soured state, you tried tainting
the food in my fridge, so I could not eat
more than I was allowed.
But there are cookies in the pantry
you could not ruin for me.
Gretchen Gales once wanted to be a veterinarian, Shania Twain, and a writer all at once. She has since settled down with writing a variety of content, both nonfiction and fiction. She is currently the managing editor of Quail Bell Magazine. Her written work has appeared in Ms., The Establishment, Bustle, and more. See more of her work at www.writinggales.wordpress.com.