But Here I Am

Clinging to a Cheeze-It box she cried inside.
Light shone in from the uneven folds of the window curtains,
casting a sharp glare on the Cheeze-It box.

I could not recall the last time I had had a Cheeze-It.
The crunch and blend of cheese tastes mapping itself out in my childhood,
pulling and pushing me towards an unlikely future,
it was not something I was open to experience again.

She held onto the box, not bothering to ask if I wanted any.
A stillness in the air spoke of worse things to come,
a Cheeze-It box would not suffice it told me,
but would I have been foolish enough to think so anyway?

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