Sweet

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