![]() |
This is written for a 1-star bad poetry contest. |
| There are Twizzlers in the kitchen, a Hostess cupcake on the shelf; There’s a box of Nestle SnoCaps Playing Mozart by itself. The Milk Duds are melting on the dashboard of your car. The rootbeer barrels fill the space of the empty Pinot Noir. And when the day turns blue I sit and think of you, sitting there, sighing, eating your box of Hot Tamales. |