afraid that I have totally screwed up
my chance to bring peace to those around me.
I feel guilty for taking advantage
of your love for crunchy peanut butter,
and shame for the ways I schemed against you.
Each time I picture you, lying spread out
in the kitchen, stiff as a tiny board,
I wince, and hope it didn’t hurt too much.
Next time around the wheel, if you come back
as something bigger and fiercer than me,
please, please, know it was nothing personal.
To share with friends at the dVerse Poets Pub.