Something that tastes too sweet stops feeling
like a treat. The tongue grows heavy, and the
stomach twists; as what once melted into joy now
rots at the edges — a nectar that poisons, a kindness
that clings too tight, a love that smothers until you
can’t breathe without choking on its syrup.
Sweetness in excess is a _quiet cruelty_.
it does not heal; it only hides the sickness
it’s already become. And maybe that’s the trick —
a treat that tricks the tongue, a sweetness so thick
it sticks like honey on the heart, leaving you
starving while pretending to be fed.
_Too much **** sugar and even
the heart gets cavities._
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 5:20 PM UTC
Something that tastes too sweet stops feeling
like a treat. The tongue grows heavy, and the
stomach twists; as what once melted into joy now
rots at the edges — a nectar that poisons, a kindness
that clings too tight, a love that smothers until you
can’t breathe without choking on its syrup.
Sweetness in excess is a _quiet cruelty_.
it does not heal; it only hides the sickness
it’s already become. And maybe that’s the trick —
a treat that tricks the tongue, a sweetness so thick
it sticks like honey on the heart, leaving you
starving while pretending to be fed.
_Too much **** sugar and even
the heart gets cavities._
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