"Now, this is a view
That I wish I could see forever"*  you sighed, whilst peering at the landscape
That tumbled in front of us in a way that only nature could!
"I agree," I smiled, glancing at only you, taking your hand and silently wishing that you will be my forever-view.

Mommy spoke to god today
He told her to wash all of my sins away
I put up a fight, but mommy won
I'm in the tub with my clothes still on
She shoved the shower head up to my face
This is a punishment for my disgrace
I swore out loud, I started to cry
Water poured into my eyes
I cannot see, I dare not to breathe
A few moments of torture and I hope I break free
Mommy has to wash my sins away
God told her so today
He said I was bad
Young children must obey
I don't even know what I did anyway
I cannot scream
I cannot cope
Mommy please stop you're making me choke
Ten years old
Nothing but cold
After a few moments she allowed me to go
The apologies followed
I felt oddly betrayed
"Do you not love me?" I wanted to say
Mommy is okay now
Thankfully Mommy calmed down
I don't understand
The force of her hands
God spoke to mommy today
The water washed my sins away
Am I a good girl now?
I'll try to behave
I'm just a child
Looking to you for guidance

My hands are pressed gently into his palms. His fingers are running over the gaps between my knuckles and are folding down and along each crease like a little boy bent over a desk in the back of the classroom concentrating on making a paper airplane out of yesterday’s homework. I half-expect someone to tap my shoulder and say, “Are you paying attention?” No, not really. I am focused on the way his lips are moving a fraction of a second out of time with the faint country song we hear playing from outside. I begin to sing too. Half way into the second verse, his eyes meet mine again. He takes my aircraft hands and leads me to the middle of the living room. The overhead fan gazes at us. I feel the paper airplanes inside of my chest swirl. We are swaying. My arms are draped over his tired shoulders and his are encircling my lower back. I see that his shoelace is untied. I am leaning my weight against his chest, balancing on my tiptoes. I do not tell him I can feel his heart beating. I look up at him again. He is already staring. I notice a subtle pink in his cheeks. I do not realize until now that my lips are only inches from his, the gap between them begging to be closed. So we close it. I fold into him like creased paper waiting to be flown. Someone opens the door. She says, “The song stopped playing. Are you even paying attention?” I speak up and say, “No, not really.”

Mozzarella on my Pizza just burnt my tongue
Moral of this event:
" The one you love the most is the one who hurts you the most."