Pure White Lie

The carton’s off. That sharp, sour stink

hits me the moment I lift the lid.

I poured it out. It went to sink

in my coffee, like a thing that hid

its true nature. Then I saw the rings

on the Formica, slick and stark.

The residue of broken things.

A little stain that leaves its mark.

It curdled fast, that pure white lie.

Turned ugly. Didn't even try

to stay good. Just watched it die.

And I watched it die.