I spun sugar today, from words you gave me,

feathery,
crystalline,
velvety sweet.

Dissolving into liquid, pink upon my tongue,

delicate,
syrupy,
nectared dew.

I made a meal of your gift,
as it danced its way inside me.

Owning the vowels’ confection,
reducing the cloud of consonants,
into a fluid, honeyed trail.

I spun sugar today,
so I could eat your words,
and bundle their sweetness inside me.