Cinnamon

Cinnamon_Poem

Thin round mints

in a square tin box,

one finger clicks

open the top,

white paper

black letters

rustling inside,

pink tablets tying

her tongue in knots.

“Curiously Strong”

it had boldly warned

of cinnamon breath

for hours long,

take one for now

with more to follow

letting it linger

no hurried swallow.

Sharp edged pins

slowly close in

She shuts her eyes

to catch them spin,

seconds crawl on

behind a racing heart

“Artificially Flavoured” kiss

is ready to depart.

This is the second poem composed on the cellphone during a 40 minute metro ride. Read the first here.

 

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