Syrup simple. Sad and slow.
Sweet run juice, slips down
the rotted core.
Mirroring the sweeping tears
Salt slicks your face.
Black with overripeness.
Sugar shot through.
Quick slaloms of sea wash
High cut cheekbones.
They cave with the decay of sorrow.
What once was taught and full
Now is sunk and sallow
Sweet turns bitter.
The sad in your soul
Rots you like a peach.