Writing

There once lived a boy who was 11 years old. His parents were never at home and they never cared about what he did. This caused him to become a spoiled kid. His name is Jordan.

A grandmother bakes

A batch of warm cookies

Peppered with butterscotch chips,

A chocolate kiss pressed in the center,

For her grandchildren

It starts with rain.

Sometimes it comes slowly with a drizzle,

but this time,

it starts without any warning.

The rain drops from the sky

in powerful sheets

and the world lights up for a fraction of a second

You’re everywhere I look—

I can’t escape the photos we took.

This haunting obsession

I thought had passed returns,

sharp—

sudden,

like a looking glass.

We were happier then—

Kiss where ink and flesh align,

carved to summon touch.

Skip the space between my lips,

spewing oaths of love.

You feed me want— then starve me dry.

A feast of glances,

You aren’t what I need to breathe like a fish out of water

Aren’t what I desire nor the sounds of laughter

That make me smile.