I slather my sorrow in apricot jam,
Certain that this breakfast together will
be our last.
I say nothing, you say less.
I stand to go, biting my lip and breathing silent apologies.
But you beckon me closer,
And as you kiss me, I feel jam trickling down my fingers
And I feel the pulse of your mercy.
Certain that this breakfast together will
be our last.
I say nothing, you say less.
I stand to go, biting my lip and breathing silent apologies.
But you beckon me closer,
And as you kiss me, I feel jam trickling down my fingers
And I feel the pulse of your mercy.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
ThatGirlWithAVoice
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