I skim the instructions with haphazard intent 

as you maneuver around the cramped walk-in shower 

trying to wash away a day’s worth of dirt and stress. 

You said you were craving spaghetti, 

His eyes were never as blue as that first night 
while the sunset waved its yielding flags, 
the landscape of his smooth back a blank canvas. 
You wrote your name on my collar, that mendacious tongue, 
but soap won’t expunge a brand that goes straight to the marrow. 

A teacher, a paramedic, and a writer walked into a bar, sitting side by side in the corner on a dead Monday night. The teacher ordered a vodka soda, the paramedic ordered a rum & coke, and the writer ordered a gin & tonic. They all gave the bartender their credit cards as all three of them started their own tabs. 

Laying 

Not-so-regal on the half-couch 

Feed me grapes 

Amongst sun-bleached pillars 

Pay attention to the summer freckles on my nose 

Please, not the fires in my eyes. 

An end greeted all too quickly, 

this final form is but a whisper 

of what you once were. 

Leaves are your iron, 

forged in fire’s nemesis, 

“Oh,” said my mother. “That’s good.” She turned back to her dishwashing. 

“You barely looked at it!” The sweat from my hand had stained my first-place certificate. “Can’t you even pretend to care?”  

“Can’t you see I’m busy, Emma? I’ll look at it later.” 

Your love is like an empty Nutella jar,

Like the feeling of coming home from school and finding out your sister ate the last pizza slice.

It’s like a drunk violinist trying to play guitar,

It’s like being thirsty and only having whiskey to drink,