by KATRINA

In the back of the cabinet
all nicotine dripped
I hold this bowl
heavy and hollow
filled with nothing its
contents dripped out the crack
in the bottom

all over the floor which
is now all wet and slippery

I stand there and look
at you with a puzzled look

seared yet relieved
let down yet very proud
the only thing left

reminding myself of you

Even though you’re gone
You are still here

In the bowl I hold in
my now burning hands
you died and your bowl did too

you are no longer trapped
inside the dark cabinet

you are no longer forced
to be filled
with stuff you don’t want

not an extra but now
treasure
an antique I will always keep

worth nothing to anyone

but me

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by LYZ

It’s 5:30 A.M.
My mind, set on coffee.
I need coffee.
To the mug cabinet I go.
Looking, searching for my mug.
You know, the one with penguins
painted on the outside.
I scurry around the kitchen
looking for my special mug.
It’s 6:15 A.M.
I finally find my mug.
Buried under the dirty dishes in
the sink.
“Now I have to wash it.”
I pour the coffee in
and out it goes,
out through the huge
crack in the side.
“Where did this come from?”
“This is why we can’t have
nice things.”
Wasted mug, and
wasted coffee.
I get so angry.
I throw it in the trash:
no hesitation.
It shatters to pieces
in the trash can:
gone.

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by JAMMONICA

All I notice is a big bowl
that had a big crack in it.
The cabinet is normally
shut, but it was open and that’s
when I noticed the crack in the bowl.
As I moved the bowl glass
fell onto the ground. I tripped
as I was heading to get the broom.
I’ve got glass in my foot and I start
hearing noises. I sit here for a second
trying to recognize where the noises
come from, but I have no clue.
I start taking the glass out of my foot.
It feels like fire going through veins.
The glass reminds me of
falling angels falling from heaven
for the bad they had done.
The broken pieces that shattered
like an angel’s wing.

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by AUSTIN

I have a favorite cup, I love that cup.
This cup is old, very, very old.
Within it consists a crack, a very small one
to the eye a small one, to me a story.
Maybe there’s cracks in the cracks
Maybe even cracks within those cracks
Yet no liquid falls through.
Is there a machine to block it?
A small unnoticeable force.
No, probably not, just in my mind.
Well no matter the cracks, I’m quite thirsty.
I get a glass of juice and find out some other day.

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by JONATHAN

Unknown voices whispering in your ears.

All the guilt you feared.

All your past being revealed.

All of a sudden you’re brought to tears

because of unknown secrets that your fear.

You reminisce about your past

and how fast thinking got you passed.

Knowing your past you fell in love

then lost her to another above.

You lock yourself out of the world

and reject all help and then

you truly are dead.

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