On a Saturday night, my mother made brownies. I actually almost cried. When She was at my house, we made brownies. For some reason, it just really set me off. So when Jake needed another poem, I wrote about brownies and how much seeing them made me want to see Her again.
Brownies.
It is strange that they are what make me
cry
Because you made them.
It's like I've never eaten brownies before.
Like I've never
seen brownies before.
Like it is killing me
on the inside to not have you
standing there
beside me with these
brownies.
Brownies.
Somehow, brownies are what really make me feel like there is
nothing left inside me
except this hole where
you used to be.
Maybe we should sit down
once again
and have some brownies,
because brownies are what make
two into one.
