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rainydaysunday May 2014
I can taste the burned cinnamon that coats the air
with a bitter film,
a coarse tang.

I smell the smoke and believe it or not all smoke smells the same to me
this smoke from cinnamon bread smells like when i burned pineapple and sugar.
this smoke smells like the time I lit too many candles with the window down, door closed, smoke alarm off
Smells like burnt anything
Tastes like natural want.
olympia May 2014
sugar is how we got here

sprinkled on things
that were once plain
and thus made
so much sweeter

doused on the
painful qualms
of everyones stupid
life

poured on our
guilty pleasures
that keep us astray
from what we know

but sugar gives us cavities
rots our teeth
rots our soul
rots our world
KILLME May 2014
Your sweetness,
A sad that you'll
Never
Be mine.
i Apr 2014
sweet sugar
hits your tongue,
just as same as
it did when
your sweet, candy
lips touched mine.
y i k e s Apr 2014
Children are gifted with candy from a strange bunny
though they are told not to accept candy from strangers.

Parents hide eggs along their yard for their kids to find
and the kids run along outside, digging, racing.

Food is cooked for a family meal
in honor of a all-knowing being
that's believed to be real.

It's Easter, dear.
Happy Easter!
and if you don't celebrate it, Happy Sunday!
Liz Apr 2014
Delightful march
breathes in on the sound of the swallows
chirp, and in the pungent scent of lemonade.

Daffodils brave the curtain call
and splash in yellow fountains which
powder the grass canary
and rich caramel.

Boughs of cherry trees burst
once more with indulgent,
fatuous blossoms of sugared coral,

Their marbled paper florets billow
in the gusts rising and falling like
the flocks of starlings.

The future is close, wide and happy.
Taylor Apr 2014
And I sincerely hope,
that you cannot forget,
my cloud nine eyes and sugared lips.

My thin fingers on your chest, eyes flashing under neon lights.

I hope you cannot forget me and every sweet nothing spoken with damp hair and starry lashes.

And I hope everytime you touch her hair, you feel mine under your fingertips.
I'm too bitter over this.
Daylight 4U2C Apr 2014
If you were the saw to a magic box,
I'd be the one inside.
If you forgot the spell to make me whole,
I'd be fine just with you alone.
If you grew tired of my half-self,
i'd conceal it somehow,
long as you smile.
Because you,
you,
are the love of my life.

If you were gone,
I'd chase you.
If it seems too dramatic,
I beg of you,
notice the truth in these lines.
Look in the mirror,
and gaze as I do,
at the light you shine.
Because you,
you,
are a mystery,
even with all I know.
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