I'm sitting in the corner
of a cold, empty house.
My eyes glazed over,
I haven't slept.
Memories of Thanksgiving
flash upon the spoon
flipped over before me;
the plaid shirt
I was wearing,
the crummy salad I ate.
I see the look
in your eyes,
you were holding
back tears.
I couldn't contain mine.
Suddenly, flashbacks
of white powder
caked like snow upon
the jail cell bars.
I'm sitting in the corner
of a cold, empty house.
My eyes glazed over,
I haven't slept.

Write the good,
as well as the bad,
on the same page.
Both are equally
important
to the story.