She finds me tucked in between the couch cushions,
as if I were trying to fit myself into the dusty black hole
where her hair ties and fingernails go to get lost,

I am anxiously sobbing
and I don’t want her to see
so I bury myself in the drunk smell of cushions

she takes one look at me
and knows I have been crying,
a stubborn tear on hot cheek
I don’t have the courage to tell her
that the sadness has eaten away my insides
so I fill the silence with “I am hungry”

she makes me blueberry pancakes
I do not like blueberry pancakes
but I am too tired to ask for anything else

I eat them on the floor in a paper towel
each bite mixing
with a lump of the anxiety
caught in my throat

I ask for more
I want her to fill
the famine inside of me
with blueberry pancakes