3.14.17

Typically I’d sit.

I’d wait.

The clock ticking gently behind

me and my dogs sleeping 

at my feet. 

Today I paced and paced. 

The pangs eating

my sides. Burning smells

sucked into my nostrils. 

Crumbs that had a previous

lives and attachments slowly dying. 

Everything bagel,

that had really only seeds. 

Everything but cream cheese. 

My white plate sitting empty. 

My knife ready. 

The anticipation. Realizing it never 

popped up to alert me. I smacked 

shmear on the top and took

a bite too large. It was worth 

the wait, but it was only a 

temporary 

fix.

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