lollipop headlights by Yun-Fei Wang (16, Taiwan)*

for the longest time, the years after i left us 
things changed: the sweets jar was always empty. 
hollow. it was a curse--every candy i tried 
would taste like headlights that evening ​

---

in the backseats of your run-down car 
we broke into crushed sugar, condensed 
at all the sweetest places--​ 
your smile, fingertips, ecstasy, my ghost 

like hourglass sand through a narrow tunnel 
your nails slit open powdered flesh 
the past and present remained still 
until one overflowed into the other--i met you: 

sculpting candy with knife-like teeth, you 
dragged the lollipop across my closed lips 
scraping with shards of broken headlights 
as our moonlit nights slowly slipped away 

like this one: back of your car, tasted 
timeless scars, you tell me it’s okay--
lollipop bits stuck to the back of my throat 
and sticky under my tongue like sand 

after every grain has passed through 
the hourglass neck, will there ever be 
another us? the sweet blood i crave 
searching through an hourglass; our glass 

somehow my lips ended up etched in shards 
pressed tightly against the side of your neck 
i fed on your blood trickling into my scars 
intoxicated from the sugar on your lips 

slowly, i sank, like metal keys in honey 
into oceans of starlight, sickly sweet 
they became mists of heavy dreams 
seeping into scars until we were but--

your fingertips poisonous to my skin 
like headlights waiting to break.

and that was why, even after a forever 
every piece of candy would remind me of: 

one, a taste no artificial sweets could match 
two, a story ending with broken headlights 
three, the hourglass on your bedroom shelf, and 
four, you;

​