“popsicle”

love is like a popsicle 
on a hot summer day.

when you have love,
it tastes delicious.
but it quickly goes 
away.
leaves a mess
where you kissed
those last lips
goodbye.
and you're left
standing in a puddle,
hot, naked.
and
when you have none,
you want some.
and everyone seems
to be sucking and licking,
stained by the artificiality
of it all.

narrative poem written on 01-03-2018 by: on mattkane.com
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