She, made by sugar, wanted to drink other poisons; this oath would find her happiness with: starting to keep this great desire to escape. She wanted to evoke the most delicate blue to her eyes and the smartest way to be innocent again, with no time to feel shortages. For this, she occupied herself with the word, only one, that she could use all the letters and sounds to not just suffice that could demand herself tears, breasts and hopes. A word that was so done of everything to explain to her everything that did not embrace her out, completely. She made worlds, wanted to drink other poisons just to be cured of blank sheets. Brewing coffee could be a poem: and the poems were doors where, by definition, could be entered, appropriate to what she wanted to save or ask for. She, made by sugar, asked for bitter tastes, as if she could provoke inviting the scars to her own greatness. Something convincing that made by sugar even bleeding with her emotions, she would no longer die from any bitter love. Gracing her home slowly with white crockery and perfumes to expect it even more beautiful and tidy. A blind date to herself. Unknowingly, this would be her gentle way to escape and love herself from inside… ❤