Reflection.

Our last topic of discussion rests
on my lips like day old coffee.
with every inhale I smell our bitter moments.
its slow drip from my rosy mouth is like
tasting childhood nightmares in rewind.

all I want is to fast forward
to the part where the credits roll,
leaving a puddle of our regretted
words behind like popcorn on the theater floor.

(c) Novalyn Grace RRL