The words were syrupy
Coating the inside of her mouth
With a tender sweetness
It was indistinguishable
Unlike any other piquancy
she let the sugar coated mess of words
Deceive her
For after it is dried up
All she has left is
The rope of reminisce she clings to
Her hands red
As the sky
When the sun leaves its midst
She has only the cloying aftertaste
Boiling in her mouth
Yet even then she would still choose
To taste
The bittersweet mass again
She still recalled
The way her mouth danced to form the
Simple
Yet powerful words
“I love you”
Gorzycki
7th