Chewed.

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

and forgotten,

as table edge gum.

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