perhaps perhaps you just look at me like that accidentally perhaps our eyes meet like that on coincidental occasions perhaps you bump into me in the halls without noticing perhaps you pass dangerously close to me because it's your nature perhaps you make snarky remarks as you walk by because that's what you always do perhaps you like me perhaps you don't but I definitely like you

rose i stare at the rose on the table trying my hardest to keep all of the thoughts and conversations out of my head i furrow my brow in concentration and feel my eyes narrow the rose starts to get fuzzy around the edges and soon it's a blur but i let one word take over my thoughts "levitate" i say it as calmly and clearly as i can and all of a sudden the rose is so clear and sharp that i feel a headache coming on but i see the water that the rose is held in ripple slightly and the rose is an inch above the tablecloth i suspend it in the air for ten seconds and then break eye contact gasping for air i could hear lieutenant say "well done" and pat me on the back i ask the waiter for a check and bound out of the restaurant

icy heart she stares across the table fork poised midway to her lips balancing her salad on the fingers of her utensil divorce the word hits her like a ton of bricks divorce it feels so wrong in her mind it feels even worse on her tongue when she says it questioningly repetitively divorce rough her food falls to her plate her fork clanks on the tiled floor she throws her monogrammed towel to the chair and leaves shoving the restaurant doors open wide shoving her hands deep in her pockets shoving her love for him into the deepest darkest parts of her heart she runs with a tear-stained face into the snowy night her tears freezing to crystal and dropping to the sidewalk like her heart frozen icy slippery unforgiving

fireworks the fireworks begin thundering through the night flashes and pops of sparkling light brilliance reflecting through the night sky leaving the images in one's closed eye watching with anxiety as they strike the first flame waiting with excitement for the same firework again they hit the night with a glorious boom, and fill the sky with light as if it were a room the sparks then gently float through the air down to the children, get stuck in their hair another is lit, another, another the finale is coming, to a boy says her mother the crowd waits in silence for that one last shot and disappointed, they definitely were not BOOM HISS SIZZLE BAM the midnight explodes with sounds with a crisp WHAM a rainbow of colors flies through the sky and then the end is coming nigh the display is over, the ashes are dead noises are mute, gone are white, blue and red the remains fill the sky with a thin curling cloud and young children are grateful that it's no longer loud

Mother I can hear the cries of my mother through the door. She is sobbing not softy, like you do when you are sad, but roughly and savagely, like a baby in pain. I listen for a few moments, completely transfixed until I can bear it no longer. My feet press against the carpet on the stairs lightly. I don't want to disturb anything. I make her eggs the way she likes them; scrambled with paprika and salt and a splash of vinegar. I don't knock when I come up the stairs, just barge right in, and for one second, I see her completely vulnerable. She is facing the window and looking out at the ocean, the blue reflecting somewhat on her. Her back is bare and smooth, and she has bunched up the sheets around her body in her hands. Glorious light is streaming in on her tear-stained face, and her eyes are sparkling with water and pain. She has no makeup on, completely bare, and she looks extremely wise. The small amount of wrinkles she has on her face are the folds of knowledge and knowing. She looks beautiful, angelic, like the face of holiness, like an angel sent down from above. Then she turns her head and something changes. She smiles at me and I smile back. "Happy Mother's Day," I say, and hold out the tray for her to take. She grabs it with shaking hands and stares at the eggs for the longest time. She finally looks up, chin quivering, and whispers an "I love you" so pure and sincere, I feel myself begin to cry in astonishment. Her voice is different; elegant, rather than rough. She pulls me to her chest and cradles and rocks me as I listen to her soft heartbeat, steady as the murmur of the current just outside the window. As I'm basking in the sunlight and holding my mother so tightly, I feel like God is showing me something. And, after a few minutes of thinking, I realize what it is He is presenting: love.