365 Days of Poetry: Day Three-Hundred and Thirty-Six

I am not the bright and shiny type.
then I look at my friends.
and realize like calls to like.

“You should eat something.”
mothers say these things.
“Even if it’s only peanut butter and jelly.”
these used to be my favorite.

all tastes like ashes now.
one of the many symptoms.
stab at them though.
the root evades me.

old solutions.
don’t work as they should.
focus a ghost who spawned nightmares.
mostly faded, he was five years old.


About June Faramore

Writer of fantasy, mainstream, and young adult fiction. Poet and sketcher. Mother. I read a lot and love cheese. Guitar playing singer-songwriter. I also enjoy stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. View all posts by June Faramore

this side, that side

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