bookstore trips in a beige

honda accord and 

homemade hot chocolate 

for two in my small college

apartment and bite size

candies and pink and red

and white m&ms and red

apple jellybeans and plants

with lilies and mums in

black pots that stay alive for

weeks and dark chocolate

covered strawberries 

and pink enveloped cards with

my name on the front 

written in my mother’s 

chicken scratch and hugs

that smell like her 

deodorant and “alright

honey, probably the last 

time i’ll see you

while you’re 20. You’re

doing so good, i’m proud

of you. i love you”s 

watching her drive

away in her beige

honda accord to her sterile

modern white granite-

countertopped house that’s

thousands of square feet too 

many for one person and two

hundred and ninety-eight

miles from her home