The demise of the candy heart brigade, by Toni Cross

 

Brutally crunching up tiny sweet hearts

Those stale remainders of February

Whose ranks were once a veritable rainbow

Now only a few distasteful colors are left

Mainly the greens and the yellows

Their death cries are pathetically corny

They call me “Sweet Love” and “Angel”

As if these attempts at seductive platitudes

Could halt my ever chewing teeth

Or still my craving for more

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