smoothies Sonya You and I are like half eaten smoothies to them. We are never enough. We can never fully satisfy because we haven't enough frothy goodness left within our tattered cups. They drink from us at their convenience but they do not take everything. They only taste what they want to taste and leave. So here we sit in our brightly hued paper cups on this lonely little white table. The straws hang out anxiously for someone to realize we are still half full of smoothie spirit. We watch as the people walk by and order something fresher and more colorful. We realized long ago that they would not see what lies inside of us. Perhaps they never will. At times the rims of our cups run against the other when the customers walk out the door on their merry way. As the door of the parlor slams our cups converge for a brief moment. You are strawberry. You are tender yet bitter, you are red with fury, but also bleeding from pain. I am coconut, pale and unnoticed. I'm the flavor that is easily forgotten yet I'm expected to remain on the menu just so they can reject it. Love, it is here we shall sit. I would rather endure being stuck on this table with you for eternity than be carried out the door by one of those heartless beings. I told you one day we would get a smoothie together didn't I? It was just a matter of time before I realized we are smoothies. You're the best one I've ever seen. I'll stare into your cup as long as you'll let me. 020201 what's it to you? who go blather from