Marta Owczarek - Unnecessary Words

Even unnecessary words
have creational power.
The truest truth is fiction;
You follow them, jumping
Tilted street tiles on tiptoes
But mid-sault, in air still,
They turn so fucking sour.

With a pinch of salt you tasted sweet,
Served right under my nose,
Right under my tongue,
Under my breath
And under my clothes.

But the candy-cloud-floss
Was eating your face,
Making me sound bitter.

Surely the sand in your teeth
Should have been in your way
Of lying so much; aesthetically,
But for nothing, my dear.