XVII

Fork prongs poke the skin of macaroni shells
She didn't eat much
Pens don't drop
And the people don't hear,
Not anything real, at least
All of their words bounce off the walls
As she pokes at the macaroni in it's blue bowl

Her mom says "Absolutely Nothing" is about suicide and doesn't want her reading it anymore
Little blue pills pile up in her empty stomach
And black ink itches behind her ear,
XVII

They used to have a dog
She was black and speckled with white hair
And while she pokes the macaroni,
That she thinks makes her fat
She thinks about the dogs they had
Their names, or whether their ears were floppy
Until the bell rings

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