Dirty Sugar

[busker]

Dirty Sugar

My mind has a way
of sprinkling memories with sugar,
candying them in a pleasant shell.
Taking the experiences most lacking
and drizzling them with honey,
disguising the dryness
with rich, decadent kindness
that melts on my tongue,
easy to swallow,
easy to digest,
causing me to crave them
again and again.
Longing for the grainy texture
I think to be sugar,
but know to be dirt.

I love the way you’ve taken that one metaphor and treated it consistently throughout the poem.
The first three lines are quite beautiful, and the rest of the poem doesn’t wander about, but expands on the first three lines 

It might be better if the last line didn’t reflect so much self awareness. Then your mind isn’t really doing its job that well, and the preceding lines look less convincing 
So “but is really” instead of “know to be” or something like that