Inkmouth

golden

you are golden

she is golden

i am but a flecked charcoal

with scratches

and a broken psyche

and i will never fit

you are soft

she is sweet

i am bitter

and i force the sweetness

but it is sugar from salt

and it dissipates in my sour voice

i want you to see me

as golden

i want to be soft

for you

but i am bitter

i am the spit

of semi-tastelessness

and i will never be golden

for you