XXXVIII | Someone I Liked

❦

There is,
in my memory,

someone
whose breath also smells like

peanut butter.

It's my favourite,
she told me.

You've finished a whole bottle
in two days!

The person's laugh
is familiar,

a sound I've grown

accustomed to hearing.

Peanut butter

fills

the air.

A knife
with peanut butter

straight into

the person's mouth.

You'll hurt yourself,
I heard my voice say.

You're not my mother.

She giggled
and it sent a chill down my spine.

I will be,
if you won't take care of yourself.

Licking sounds.

A door opened.

A wince.

Chairs scraping apart.

Hi auntie,
my voice again.

The sound of the knife
scraping over toasted bread.

She gave it to me.

The sound of a phone
and footsteps fading.

Then dark eyes

just an inch from mine,

and

peanut
butter

breath.

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