I want to eat wedding cake
pure sugar, pure lust
disguised with hearts and baby bells
one white, the other pink,
one white, the other pink.
Like learning how to stick the thread through the needle, with eyes closed. It'll be okay if the needle pricks, it'll be okay if blood drips from your finger to the needle, down the thread, and onto the paper you're sewing together. Onto the wedding cake that will last forever. The paper is just paper, not a dress you're trying to fix, or trying to wear. It's not the dress that needs to be fixed. It's the colors of the paper, one white, the other pink. Or, like learning how to light a match, because sometimes lighting the paper on fire, is easier, faster and the clever way to fixing. And it's okay that the ash and embers blow away, the wedding cake will still be there while the rest of the world catches the fire.