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bread for my soul This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

the afternoon I walked out of your life,
I made a stop by a tired bakery, my hands dug in my pockets. I needed a moment
to feed, I'd run out of your soul to digest, and I was wasting away.
behind the counter, there was a woman with her dog, a tiny woman,
a large dog, but for reasons I was too foolish to see, she towered over the
canine, her white hair strung out like a lioness.
“child, you look tired'' she said. I counted out the change for
a filled loaf of bread; I didn't want to talk with her, she looked dangerously
at peace with her life, the dog content to guard his mistress's desires and fight for her will
while there was myself, running and hiding from the damage I caused in my past footsteps.
But her voice was too overwhelming and I stopped reaching for my pennies. Dog came and sat by
my foot, she came and wrapped those withered arms around my glassy shoulder-bones while my
eyes bleed my emotions.
The pastry began to crumble between my fingers, and the red center began to leak from between each
grainy impression of wheat. I had cried before that day, but I cried the hardest
when she whispered that you had really been a leech into my ear. Hours came and
went, I'd breathed a few times, before giving my farewells and walking away.

(That bread become my body)

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.

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