Love tastes like broken glass, made of sugar.

January 3rd, 2016, 7pm

It was -1.1°C with overcast. The breeze was light.

I sat in a dark room watching the glowing happiness stream from her eyes and mouth, which mocked me in an upturned smile. She would never know or understand the bitter sweet taste of her beautiful smile. It was like broken glass made of sugar, cutting my tongue as I devoured it’s delightful sweetness. My mind fought itself, thinking of her, feeling light inside my fragile veins. Then forcing her out through one ear, straining to give up all hope. I tried all diets, all approaches on banishing the unhealthy treat of her existence, but I kept swallowing her sharp smile till all I could taste for days was my own thick blood. Today, my brittle bones have still not mended fully, but I will forever remember that love tastes like sugary, sharp, broken glass. Be wise my friends…


Marion, David Wade, jonnalagadda and Danielle said thanks.

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Cody Rendon

Writing tastes like sharp spices of expression and nerve in a boiling hot stew.

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