Bitter Bites

Hello, 

Today I come to you with a poem I wrote. It's probably not the best you'll ever read, but I had fun writing it and thought I'd share. It's inspired by a memorable meal I had when I was 10. My grandma, who was the sweetest and most caring lady ever, had just died. My best friends mom tired to make a replica of my favorite meal that my grandma always made. We still laugh about it today, and I just love how she tried to make me feel better, it was so sweet. xoxo 

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her bouncy strawberry blonde hair,

much like my grandma's

sits and watches the silver container

full of bubbly gray goo.

her mouth lovingly blabbers about,

how we much not lie,

how we must yield to one another. 

she thinks our friendship is breaking,

like ice cracking under the weight.

my friend, her mom

anxiously watch me as i take my first bite.

awful.

but I take another, and another

remembering my smiling grandma,

who always prepared me my favorite meal.

dough so soft,

it melted in your mouth.

chicken so tender,

its taste lingered on your tongue

like a song that wouldn't stop repeating in your head.

but as she was laid to rest

where the radiant sun would never fail to shine,

and the vibrant flowers bloom daily,

i was left with a burnt bitter taste in my mouth,

and powdery dough that refused to be swallowed

that not even the panting dogs,

that begged under my feet,

ventured to take a bite.