Sweetness

I eat plastic noodles
to remember, the imaginary scent of December
sipping at chilli soup in my bed rags
your artificial smell
loving up my bed hair.

I fell into her bed right there
your feelings for me spindled around me
like a little moat of clouds
of hot, fresh steam
that balanced eagerly
in pure thin air.

I had stole all her blankets by sunrise
inside she knew how cold I felt,
I am a lone sherpa
rolling
for an infinite
down snow plains of blackened cave beats
subtle and repetitive;
I wanted to fall into your arms
and I felt more like a baby
now than ever.

She peached and plummed
acted like my small candle of miniature hopes
that things might cook well
that final trams should come quickly and on time
and a distraction
feeding me spiders that were found wondering the garden
covered them in chocolate;
I want to be covered in chocolate
and I want to squeal
until nobody can hear me
and I am gone
into something like her sweetness.