in my sweaty palm, melting is medical-pink candy coating. the pieces click, clack, roll around, and the generic sugar tastes sweeter than ever, sweet like a fever, sweet like smiles under the concrete bridge.
tastes like sweet'n'low piled high in one- dollar coffee drained in two seconds, like buttercream frosting smeared across your arm. tastes of the indoors, of doors shut, of stale snicker-doodles. it is sugar that tastes like promises gone far.
when i swallow (that is three, four, twenty more) i can taste it in the pit of my stomach: sweet, sweet candy coating masking the poison, the anodyne, the analgesic— candy coating to cover all the little scars.