the taste of cinnamon in my mouth
burned
my tongue raw
(reminded me of christmas cookies)
the couch we all sat on every day
watching television to ungodly hours of the morning
made me want to destroy the world
(bad dad-jokes never seemed so good)
melancholy never felt more like a harmful illness
and neither did loneliness
partialness has became a routine
it all started with a separation
and ended with being stretched over
two continents to the point of breaking
Ana M. Finžgar is a fifteen-year-old from the Mediterranean. This was her first serious attempt at poetry.”
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