molasses

in the dregs of the syrup
i'm sucking up water
still flavoured with the tinge of its goo
then i see you

tiptoeing down there
in distance of concave frosted glass
dancing with each sip through the straw
bellowing up through the tube to me
eyes like saucers
a mind that can't breathe
anything but sugar

but theres not much syrup left
so all i'm sucking is just something
that's now makeshift and bereft

to keep sipping
would be sucking on the soul of me
and i want the whole of me
to taste something that's true
i can no longer sit in molasses with you
i need to feel
i need to chew