The Dissolving Sweet

It wasn't a sudden break,

no lightning bolt,

no grand, dramatic shift.

More like a slow,

unseen erosion.

A headline,

a small, grimy detail

about the charity,

the one with the posters

of hopeful, wide-eyed kids.

A misplaced fund.

A few thousand dollars,

gone. Not stolen, exactly,

just mismanaged,

or poorly accounted for.

A small thing,

they said.

But it was enough.

Like a spoonful of sugar,

dropped into black coffee.

You watch it sink,

then stir, and stir,

until it’s just gone.

The coffee looks the same,

dark and deep.

But the sweetness,

the unquestioning,

comforting sweetness,

is only a memory.

A lingering,

slightly altered taste

on the tongue.

And then, nothing.