How to Fall in Love When You’re Seven

The end can be the best beginning. 

I am my finished product, the final brush stroke, the final chord. You look at the last page of a book and wonder, how did she end up here? You are dazzled at my ability to survive the jungles, the swamp with rats that are much too big, the labyrinths, the space stations. She marries him? But why? So you start the book over until you find your way to that last line. To the end of me. To the end of everything.

And they lived happily ever after…I do…Here’s lookin’ at you, babycakes.

So the inspirational lunch duo has done it again. Amanda J. gave me a gem of a last line—”with a pair of scissors”—and I attempted to give her a gem of a poem in return. So below is the result of too much down time at work and a whole lot of childish thinking.

Arts and Crafts by Alexa L., written July 26, 2010

Our love is elementary school
I am the macaroni, the glue
He, the card
I color him in
Cerulean and Jungle Green
outlines in Antique Brass and Gold
hearts and stars
paper-lace borders
your secret admirer
p.s. I really really like you

and watch

as he cuts my words 
with a pair of scissors.

The end.

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