copywright Leah Winkler


Don’t  bake banana bread for a boy.

Especially at your age.

Because he will eat it all. And forget.

And block you from his Facebook Wall.

And the crumbs will rest there  on your feet

and fall there on the floor.

So you will sweep.

And throw it away in the garbage with the cutips.

And that will be the end.

And the light that surrounds you will go dark.

And that darkness will  rest in your heart.

It’s the kind  you lament.

And the  kind  you never thought would be there.

And even when you’re breathing below a man

who tells you over coffee

how effortlessly beautiful you seem to be

you will still  remember white nights

hair up or down

dust settling

first times

and the way he  looks in the mornings

and how you spent all afternoon neglecting everything

to bake him banana bread

sometimes with chocolate chips.