November 15, 2016
Sweet is an original poem by Mia Powell.
He looked at her like her eyes were the moon –
And, oh, how he loved the nighttime.
He spoke to her like she could never do wrong –
And, oh, there was no one to change that.
He pet her hair like she was the last thing he’d touch –
And, oh, what a treasure that was.
She looked at him like her eyes were the moon –
And for once someone wanted the nighttime.
She listened to him like she could never do wrong –
And she believed all the sweet words he read.
She leaned into his hand like he was the last one who’d touch her –
And she said she was all right with that.
Is it sweet?
Like honey.
He looked at her like her eyes were the moon –
But, oh, how he might try the sunshine.
He spoke to her like she could never do wrong –
But, oh, misspoken words can change minds.
He pet her hair like she was the last thing he’d touch –
But, oh, sometimes gold isn’t valued.
She looked at him like her eyes were the moon –
But she knew that the sun would just burn him.
She listened to him like she could never do wrong –
But words written down can break hearts.
She leaned into his hand like he was the last one who’d touch her –
But she decided that that was a lie.
Was it sweet?
Like vinegar.
powemari@my.dom.edu