Don't take my heart's voice and make it your Starbucks review.
It may not be pretty, perfect, and cookie cutter constructed.
But I still feel something, and i'm sure you do too.
I'm not a dog and pony show.
I wish I felt it were true.

What's a poet to a writer?
Why are some valid and others not?
No reaction is a reaction after all.
But even alone, I must be a fighter.

I'm not a dog and pony show.
But I wonder if you'd ever know.
Because you choose our voices like you choose your candy.
You prefer what's sweet, and discard the sour.

My voice is a sweetart, what comes with it tingles.
Listen and react for it's story, not the speaker,
and you'll feel it deep inside your heart.

He bought these sweetart twist things at the movies last night.
He and I sat by each other and laughed at the movie we had to attend,
And I refrained from holding his hand or getting too close.
I thought it was sweet when he offered me a candy.
I took one from the bag, and electricity passed through my body when our fingers touch.
I doubt he noticed.
But, as I took a bite, I felt like I had to puke.
I looked around and wondered what would make me think of you right now.
He looks nor acts nor smells nothing like you.
What was it?
And then it hit me.
In my shaking hands I was holding sweetarts,
Which you absolutely loved.
While they may not have been the regular ones,
They still tasted like them and still somehow reminded me of you.
I tried to keep as calm as possible,
I couldn't let this ruin such a great night that I'd been having.
So, I finished off the candy,
And I made sure to not touch them again.

We jumped and dodged mops
and chairs around the house so that we could in fact deliver the antidote to our dying playmate on the other side of the house. Then upon our arrival we opened our palms to reveal the loose pills of sweetart rolls that would indeed cure the our peer’s fatal illness as they giggled, and we choose what game we would play next.