Sugar coat.

When I don't know who to miss or how to miss them, I miss you. I don't know how I do it, or even why, but it happens, and I can't help it.

"Write," my brain says, and I obey, "write what you want to say and don't sugar-coat."

Well, I'm sugar-coating, brain, but that's because for the first time ever, I'm not brave enough to use raw words, the ones I really want to say. Sugar protects tongue from bitter aftertaste necessary for healing. Healing to take place soon. Pill to tongue, sugar-coat in writing. Wish I didn't need these pills at all.

I cry. In almost every television sitcom that I watch, I cry. During sad country songs. I cry during those, too. They stick in my head and make me think of sad things.
Things like you and me.
Things that haven't always made me cry,
they make me cry now.

And these words are all very cryptic. They're blanketed under a coat of sugar that I wish I didn't depend so heavily upon.