Wednesday, September 28, 2016

search through cabinets ceaseless
in bitter need of sweet relief
glance across cans and pouches, bags
wanting none, needing more
fingertips atop crinkling plastic
reaching, wishing, almost pleading
an ice cream bar, marshmallow poptart,
or some sense of closure, of safety, even of weeping
comfort might taste sweet

but we will never know

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