as just the pie filling hardens, sweet ready to eat
but some of the shells still hide
pecan pieces, in the peanut butter
Mish mash mush with sharp surprises.
This too is bitter medicine
where light and laughter meet whatever
with an attitude
where life and gratefulness sometimes flow into the corners
and the darkness creeps back in
memories of broken glasses
smashed against the fridge
shards on the kitchen floor which somehow find their way to flesh
and cut and cut
onto the filthy floor.
Just around the edges of the light
lurk the pecan shells of the bitter dark
Absinthe in the chocolate
Enclosing heart wreck
Just there, on the edge peeking around the corner of the fridge.