at empty tables,
imagining pure sunshine
by the light of manufactured flame.
This thing we have between us
is fluffy confection of sugar and air.
This thing that comes between us
is the fracture we ignore.
Don't take away my fantasy.
Close your eyes,
make a wish,
but don't blow out the candles.
I ate a piece of my soul today,
drizzled with butter and honey.
It was delicious.
This is a Sunday Scribblings post.
3 comments:
That is sad that the only one your character can rely on is herself. However I don't think that even butter and honey would make me delicious! I think somebody said if you can't like yourself neither can other people.
December 1, 2012 at 11:39 PMThe food imagery lingers long and with intent..things we must swallow..not say..turn into candy floss..something sweet..I wonder if it is a meal that will repeat on her..Jae
December 2, 2012 at 1:41 AMEating someone's soul is such strong imagery.
December 2, 2012 at 3:03 AMPost a Comment