raspberry laced with that honey
sweet sound of you talking about
and the tangy new flavor of
butterscotch mango as i
listen to your red-velvety monologue;
cause your words taste like licorice
when your eyes collide with mine...
the meaning might not matter if
the taste is maple-syrup sweet and
your mouth keeps delivering dessert
but as the minutes roll by
i start to find a sour aftertaste
in your lemon words--
cause they might be within your
palate but i've realized:
you're not within mine.