• He came like a tidal wave,
    rushing uninvited and unwarranted into my break.
    But I took him and ran,
    pushing back all thoughts of protest;
    forewarning.
    And that summer came like cinnamon,
    all spicy and bitter.
    When he drove his beat up car into the rising sun,
    I wished.
    Passing of my sugarless days.
    Craving.
    Where was my danger, my reason to believe?
    He set my sweet tooth aflame,
    and ran away. His things all packed
    in the back of his tiny, hopeless,
    junk yard death trap.
    Moving on to rush into someone else's story;
    uninvited and unwarranted.
    I poured the cinnamon in my wounds, and
    pushed on,
    into my mid morning sun.