Sweet pickle power
never go too sour
pinched faced confessions
that leave you calling Vlasic.
Remembering summer starlight.

These fingers that laced
like ribbons
through your locks
untying your secrets
while anchoring something
more steadfast.

Those wicked twinkles
measured out for stars
but resulting in moonbeams
that wash away the tears.
Salty is not the same as sour.
Bring me another hour
to hide my scar-filled whisper.

Sometimes memories are sweeter
than the contents of a flavor.
Sour yet remembered sweet.
So much better than the salty reminder
of two corners pressed together
while my back rode the crack
and wept for stars.

Published by B

I am B (call me BB and I will gut you) I like daisies, books, and men who understand the wisdom of Kermit the Frog. I refer to my favorite person as TMW5T Why? because if he had 6 I'd call him TMW6T, duh!!

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