honey, baby, sugar plum
i taste like expired rum.
like the sea before a hurricane.
i taste like the smell of rain
before the drops touch your face.
bitter candy and sweetened molasses
and teenage independence.
like childhood disappointment
and festering unrequited love.
rotten. rotten. spoiled and soiled.
what if i told you that i taste like
swelling anxiety and reckless youth.
that i taste like years and years of loneliness.
would you still want me?