Poetry Writing

cookie cutter

Weeks of rain led to dripping lightning
and sugar cookies, lovely with roses.
He smiled and my heart bloomed;
I owed myself some bravery.

I organized my words like the outline
of a puzzle, working to connect the
skyline before the center can become clear.
Truth tastes better dipped in tea.

His fingers spread across the table top,
I ached to join mine with his, create
a paper doll chain of two before his hands moved.
The cookie remained uneaten, the tea growing cold.

Deeper words came flying out as
he watched the crumbs on my plate,
licking his lips as I dipped my finger
from the frosting to my teeth.

The broken cookie broke his heart
while mine finally unloaded.
The past was long, full of twists.
I needed more time to make mistakes.

I needed to earn someone with a soul of silver,
lips I imagine taste like sugar crumbles
to match the rosebuds that
grow on my cupid’s bow.

Again I’ve said too much, fingers
typing faster than thoughts can fly.
working to close the gap with every word.
My life has never been cookie cutter perfect.

But I’m willing to wait.


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