Even the sweetest of grapes
Can Leave a sour aftertaste
On your tongue

Like a footprint of
pain in the plain
Of pleasure.

It’s kind of like that lately.
Like Ice kissing my fingertips
While sitting in the sun
Like the crash coming down
From a Sticky sweet sugar rush
Like the hot coffee
that burns red trails  
Down my throat
Sipped too soon

It’s hard to differentiate
the hurt from the high
when someone gave you
salt
Disguised as
sugar
For a
Long
Long
Time.