I remember finding my lost love,
blue and bubbly.
It touched me how alone you appeared,
marooned on tables edge.
Time defined teeth that had sunk into flesh
and taken flavour.
If I could go back I would chew delicately,
relishing new scents.
Living in the now, used, forgotten
and discarded carelessly.
The feel of it stuck, tacky,
leaking fluorescent oils.
Sometimes wishing to be whole
and torn anew.
In the future perhaps I’ll think of you,
as I savour another.
I value your brightness,
your cheap thrilling sweetness.
There is none quite as blue
as table edge gum.