The thought of leaving here,
Leaving this life,
Rolls around my head.
Like a brand-new gob-stopper.
It holds the promise of long sweetness.
It has not yet lost its bright colour.
But it’s still too big to swallow.
Maybe I’ll just suck on it for a while.
Feel it click against my teeth,
And when it’s small enough.
It’ll go down easy.
Not sure what our American friends call gob-stoppers. They're a big ball of hard candy you suck on, they change colour as you suck. They have a kind of aniseed-y flavour, usually.