the candyman can’t 



with your sugar-coated sweet talk

and a cheshire grin as you say,

“aww, baby, how cute you are,”

i could almost believe you.



with that ice-melting style

i would love to believe you—

but if arms are made for holding

why do you insist on keeping mine

empty of you?



does my honey stick to your lips

so badly you have to croon,

“hey baby, little cutie,”

just to wipe them clean?

well promises promises

fall to the ground and

land with a thud as

my arms grasp wistfully

at crisp evening air.



if i didn’t know better

i’d think you were purely dessert.

if i licked all your sweetness away,

could you melt in my mouth if you tried?

what words would reside beneath

your smoothly coated outer shell?

under the chocolate, where is the human?

or is that all you are

down to sugar-crystal bone?



why not, candied boy, sugar-talk me more…

see how long i can slide in your syrup

before collapsing in your cries of,

“i’ll call you baby call you soon.”

yes see how long i can swim in your syrup

before i drown in honey-coated words.

gulping for air it seems i’m unable

to wash your bittersweet taste

out of my mouth.