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Sara Leal Jul 22
If I dye my hair pink
Do you think my emotions will turn innocent?
Do you even perceive pink as a innocent color?
What do you want me to be?
I'll be it just to get your attention,
Just to get your time.
Give me sugar,
So I can bleed and be sweet at the same time.
Sugar doesn't heal,
But it makes you feel better for some time.
But I'll only eat it until I feel full.
I don't wanna get fat,
So I'll throw you out too.
I'll dye my hair black then,
So you know you'll never see me again.
Cause black is a mean color,
And you're not into mean girls
Sugar daddy
At seventy
Always ready
Carry in his arms
Wife of twenty
He has plenty
Sugarcane fields
Sugar mills
Mercedes Benz
Rolls Royce
He has a wide choice
He has a son
He has a daughter
In their twenties
He spent lacs
On their degrees
Across dining table
They seldom agree
His young wife
Pacifies them all
His son has
Girl friend in her sixties
Daughter doesn't lag behind
She wants marry
A man in his seventies
Sugar daddy doesn't agree
They accuse him of double standards
His young wife coaxes him while he tastes honey
Disown them
Write a will
Bequeathing her
With his all wealth and money
She's faithful and loyal to him
Keeps her boy friend at an arms length
Displays great courage and strength
Fasts on Karva Chauth
Not even a single drop of water till the end
Watching through sieve
The moon in the sky
She prays and hopes
Her moon of seventy
Soon to die
With her boyfriend and all the wealth
Happily she would live forever
His daughter to marry
A sugar daddy
His son to marry a sugar mommy
No one there for sugar daddy to cry!
Sugar daddy, sugar mommy, sugar baby turning reality in today's society.
Zoe Mei Jun 23
Alone on the pedestrian bypass bridge,
breathing summer sunset,
I swirl the stubby balsa spoon on my tongue
as the evening commute buzzes beneath my feet,

and wonder: how did I miss this all before?
how
wind washes bare arms,
world still
soft round
the sharp edges;
how ivy lush covers thickly the brick walls over,
and brazen broad-leafed bushes
crowd onto cobblestone street corners, and
wistful weeds cushion cement sidewalk cracks;

how when the sun’s rays are blades from the horizon,
our city lights twinkle tight but
tap dance so light on the retina
in the vignetted  
sky of creamsicles and cotton candy;
and how
the frozen chocolate chips
break brittle between my teeth
and the cookie-dough bite’s so smooth
and still so tooth-melting sweet
Chocolate cakes from Cocoa beans
Vanilla cream from vanilla beans
Strawberries and small berries
Blueberries and raspberries
Juice made in squeeze machines
Put into pretty canteens
Sugary frosting and treats
Made into lovely sweets
Lemon cakes with lemon flakes
Powdered sugar sift on cakes
Apple and berry pies
A feast for the eyes
In the oven, they all rise
~20/4/21
I'm hungry
Sweet and yellow
A dandy fellow
Syrupy in taste
It’s in no haste
Sugar laced
Translucent paste
Purcy Flaherty Jan 2020
I like sweets; they're loved by all,
Sold in shiny wrappers; around the world,
Hard, soft, brittle bendy,
they satisfy the mouth comprendy?
But they rot the teeth, and stick to your jumper,
Oh to be an umpa lumpa!
Nik Mar 24
sometimes, all you can do is feel small.
breath held, for the slightest exhale could be of the wrong tone—
just silence.
silence.
silence speaks louder than words, so, silence.
but even that— sometimes too sweet on the tongue, too many tablespoons of sugar.
silence too sweet like sugar cane stinging the back of your throat.
silence.
just silence.
Sometimes, I don’t have enough words to speak
Passing around a fatal flaw like a joint in a hot box,
Refreshing baths of Coca~Cola and regretful indulgence.
I'm wasting away in a paradise of my own creation!

Poems tinted grey through abstinent romanticism,
and an inexplicable undertone inherent to my prose.
As everything starts to return to a drumming constant.
It all sounds the same.
Like ashen trees and factories which procrastinate and suffocate.

We've been sunbathing in porcelain skies and lonely daydreams.
I know it sounds dramatic but as is the nature of reality.
Drab and dreary and acid washed.
Interrupted like a beach by the sea,
By the little peices of honey soaked warmth that act as comforting distractions.
A smile or a shoulder or a sunny day to drink from.
Summer and solitude, the likeness of warm bodies in a cold pond.
So.
Compose me an opera of Soda Cans and of choral song. Of coffee and two bass lines and pollen and folk.
Make it for me so I can watch you as you work.
Let me listen and bask in its ludacris vanity, and clean shallow waters.
How I would relish the time spent muddying the current. Destroying the tide out of boredom.
And black hot frustration.

Flowers painted in acid and acrid accounts of repetative revalations in the context of rude rosy cheeked acceptance.
Blonde haired ignorance and one dimensional delusions.
Blue eyed terrorists armed with air and arrogance.

Give me seatwarmers and handholding
Or corvettes and convertables.
Give me arrowheads and heart attacks
Humble my bones with a cardiac

!F.R.I.E.N.D.S.!
SITCOMS
ADJASENT PLOTLINES
mumble rap
AND ***** TALK HOTLINES
seven letter words with little context or meaning and selfless expression that's often demeaning

Its September in January and it rains for a day
And despite our efforts
We still waste away
Ryan P Kinney Feb 21
I just want your sugar high
Saccarine sticky love notes
Tender, with your honey milky scent
Just love me, like the sucker I am
And let me swallow you whole
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