A poem by Taylor Boileau Davidson, 2013

Taylor Boileau Davidson is a multi-disciplinary artist whose work explores the boundaries between intuition, femininity, and mysterious spaces.

the kind that makes the inside of your cheeks softer with the blushing taste of sugar,
it paves your insides to a touchable, enticing feeling,
the kind of sweetness that pushes your lips upwards into a permanent smile,
that convulses your tongue to taste more,

good intention so good it’s offensive,
sewn together, fitting pieces side by side but still stabbing with each prick,
sewing means to an end of beauty,
a beautiful image that looks like it’s been shattered and put back together,
like a Frankenstein creation

sweetness, so sweet it’s bitter,
a healing touch that grabs just that little bit too hard,
Could i explain to you that sweetness is my maker
stacking up cubes of sugar so I look eternally enticing,
a big slice of chocolate cake,
that gives you a stomach ack once you’re halfway through,
thrown away into the garbage without a second thought,

left half of its whole,
only wanting to satisfy,
without a care for the chunks you take away,
of the mutilated way you leave me,
so long as you taste the sweetness that you wanted,

I am a tool created to satisfy,
willing to be the things you need,
tolerating the prick of that needle every time I must sew half made pieces back on,
I just need to find a glutton,
who will always want more cake