My mother bought new dinner plates.
I didn't think we needed new ones,
They were five dollars,
I was against using the new plates. My heart was racing and
My eyes were starting to get watery.
I didn't understand why I was so against this.
They're dinner plates,
My mother told me. And I knew that.
I think I was upset because I always had those dinner plates.
I have grown attatched to them, I have memories with them.
The times with big family dinners,
Always confusing who got the bigger and smaller plates,
Making messes and my sister teasing me
By scratching the plate.
I was the only one who got bothered by that.
The nights I stared at the plate, thinking if it was a good idea
To have eaten all that food.
And the nights I didn't put a speck of food ontop of it,
because I didn't think I was worth food.
"They're just dinner plates..." I tell myself.
But I'm too sentimental;
I knew they're so much more than that.