warm honey ▸ poetry

35 Seedless

the summer i turned eleven, was the summer i tried watermelon for the first time.

the sweet, red juice dripped from my wrists to my elbows and onto my lap.

sticky innocence.

the summer i turned eleven, was the same summer my brother pushed me off my bike.

i scraped both of my knees.

i still have the scars to prove it.

the summer i turned eleven, was the same summer my sister cut my hair while i was asleep.

my dream of growing it to my butt was ruined.

the summer i turned eleven, was the same summer my dad brought home a stray dog.

he said he had found it tied to a post on the side of the road.

it escaped from our house a few days later.

we found it dead. on the side of the road. it had been hit by a truck.

we never even got to name it.

the summer i turned eleven, was the same summer my mom decided to leave. leave my dad. leave us.

my dad didn't get out of bed for a month. i had never seen him so broken. so empty.

the sparkle in his eye was gone.

the summer i turned eleven, was the same summer the bank threatened to take our house.

i had to get a job to help pay for the bills. so i bagged groceries at our local market.

the summer i turned eleven, was twenty-some years ago.

i haven't eaten watermelon since.