Poems from bellaflan
Death hurts
when you're seven
And hurts more at eleven
when your new best friend calls
razors ripping skin
crying in the bathtub
desperate...
What hurts are the memories
The good ones
I can’t eat tortellini without thinking
About countless dinners at your house
Pass the cheese and...
I write to feel
spitting rage
and
broken hearts
and
shattered friendships.
I write to feel
the knife turning in my back
and to sling it...