i am lost, once again
in the candy floss
fantasy of his candied
nails, leaving caramel
trails as they flourish and
riposte upon the small
of my back

like a child, i want the
sickly sweet grape-flavoured
chapstick of his, glued to
the hairs of my peach-tinted
cheeks, lining the licorice
alleys of my palms

i want to remember and relish
in his flavour (that i have never
and probably will never ever
taste) - i want to store them
in display bottles in the back,
sugar crystals for my eyes
only

i want to be at the front of store
and i want to give him a
bouquet of my candy floss dreams
and wave extra long as the smell
of grape-flavoured chapstick
and caramel fades

he will never know me
as well as i do him

and he will never know me.