He fed her sentiments thick as glucose.
He stirred a deep flavour within her.
Then he shook anger into that sweetness.
His temper, like food colouring, dropped. She reddened.
He stirred again and tipped her into twenty-one moulds.
She slowly crystalised, like a prisoner. Then she cooled.
He peeled back the moulds. Peeled these from her.
She was shining, twisted and addictive.
She was like twenty-one hard ideas, children sucked small.
Author Bio:
Sid Orange was a drug addict, thugs, bouncer and conman. He is from London, UK, but now lives in the Cotswolds, UK. He is an autodidact and a feminist - despite his gender.