By Brianna Levy
Our relationship didn’t end
In a fire and brimstone explosion,
Sputtering hurt as a volcano does ash.
But rather,
It staled
Like bread
Left atop a fridge,
Getting less appetizing as time pushes on.
I should be grateful,
Grateful that it didn’t explode in my face
Leaving me with the scars that many other girls wear.
But it still hurt.
I still forced this bread down my throat,
Mold and all,
Hoping it would taste wonderful again.
Hoping he would want a bite once more.
Brianna Levy is a college student in New York who has written on-again-off-again since childhood. She fell back in love with it in 2021 and plans to continue writing nonstop. She hopes to marry writing with her love for music, journalism, academia, humour, and connection as the years go on.
