Never have I seen a glare as divine as
the one on page two twenty of a crimson
and gold book I found while sorting through boxes
last month. Thing is, that face destroyed my world once.
What the hell was wrong with me? Should I say “Is”?
Probably. Why on earth would I look at her
again? Why did I stare in the first place? And
whose voice have I been hearing ever since? Hers?
I’ve been through this already. It hurt
so bad the first time I had to block her out
and pretend she never existed. But now?
Good grief. Now she has me quoting Charlie Brown.