Palate

raspberry laced with that honey

sweet sound of you talking about

--well--

you.

and the tangy new flavor of

butterscotch mango as i

listen to your red-velvety monologue;

cause your words taste like licorice

strawberry cream

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.