Scrapbook #7

I was born nine days before Christmas. Maybe that’s why the twinkle of the lights on mama’s tree look just like the shine in my eye whenever the calendar flips over after Thanksgiving. Daddy always said winter was my season, that I blossom. So you can imagine Christmas morning- us three siblings cross legged around the tree, picking out who got the most gifts while crisping bacon smells up the house, me in full bloom. There’s something magical about how the home comes alive when the world finally closes shop. And as sacred as the family isolation is, my Christmas was never complete without that moment when the festivity settled enough for you to light up my phone, from where ever you are, wishing me a Merry Christmas.


Whipping it up

Till those soft peaks rise

Your pillowy softness

A feast for my eyes


Dip a finger in

Cause baby I can’t wait

Been on my mind

Craving you all day


Almost done now

So good I forget my name

No better time than when

Eating that sweet lemon meringue


Some people warm you

All the way down to the marrow

To the very core of your DNA

Then there are some

That burn like frostbite

Leaving you numb

Your soul black and blue

And there is this scary moment

When you first meet someone

Of wondering which of the two

They will be

Entry 11/19

Dear diary,

Lately (okay fine, for months really) I’ve been doing this thing where i reach out to him in my mind. I tease memories and try to relive that last moment, just to see if I still feel anything. And though I want it over, though I want him completely purged from my skin, it still surprises me when I feel nothing. Nothing. Where the pain or even the once joy should be, there’s a void…like he never existed at all.

It’s not that some twisted part of me still wants to find him. No, I want his place in me to stay vacated. It’s more that I keep visiting the spot to make sure he stays gone. I keep fearing that he’ll sneak back undetected and stab my mind and my soul when I’m not looking.

And today, he finally did.

It wasn’t because I stopped looking. I’d been standing guard with weapons on my tongue ever since the cool weather crept in with October. But I never expected the bastard to come at me through a friend.

Naturally, I ran…pushed away, blamed. A friend doesn’t deserve that. My head knows this. But my heart is a different matter. It’s taken this long to be okay. I don’t want to let a single bit back in, even if it is just a ghost of memories passed on the face of someone I love.

Dear diary, what do I do?