Mexican food from that joint near your dads
The pooling spotty blood on my bitten lips
My mothers words
My fathers driving

Sadness is
The look she gave me when I told her what he did to me
The burn marks on my hips
Fogged up glasses
Cheap *****
Smoking a cigarette all the way down to the end  

Joy is
His laugh
The way the baby hair on my arms stand up when it’s cold and I feel alive
Italian food made together
Olive jars
Macs soft ears