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mythie Dec 2017
I have a very limited diet.
I survive off sweet and nutritious thoughts.
The compliments that taste like candy.
I devour them whole.

Put a little icing on me.
I could use a personality.
What do you want me to be?
Something sour? Or something sweet?

Cut me open, limb by limb.
Tell me good things.
Eat me and tell me how good I taste.
I crave the validation.

The bad thoughts have my stomach tied in knots.
I puke them out until I'm hungry again.
I could use some sweet things.
So all your thoughts get shoved down my throat.

Order anything you'd like.
I'll be whatever you want.
I'll make sure to consume perfection.
You are what you eat after all.

Am I good yet?
Am I too much, too little?
Too sweet, too savoury?
I will take in your thoughts and make you happy.

I'm filling up on too many thoughts.
But I'm starving.
I'm overeating all the nice things you say.
My insides are an overflowing shipwreck.

What flavour is my personality?
Should I just scrape it off?
Everyone will like me more without it.
Everyone will like me more without it.

Devour me whole, tell me I'm pretty.
Take a bite of me.
Call me the perfect identity.
Do you enjoy me?

I purge your thoughts and change my flavour.
Why aren't you happy?
My stomach is empty.
I've forgotten who I used to be.
Liz Apr 2014
The coffee cup is stained red
From strawberry chuppa chups and your lipstick, honey.
The salty liquid from its fibres
Evaporates under your fierce breath. Despite this, your voice is thin, ragged
And worn. How has life been treating you?

— The End —